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University of Illinois Library 


L161—H41 


Author of Freckles, The Harvester, etc. 


| Gene Stratton Porter 


Indianapolis 
The Bobbs-Merrill Company 
Publishers 


CopyRIcHT 1903, 1906, 1912 
Tue Bogpps-MERRILL COMPANY 


PRESS OF 
BRAUNWORTH & CO. 
BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS 
BROOKLYN, N. Y. 


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: To the Memory of My Father * 
MARK STRATTON 
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manifested a new and hereto- 
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The Song of the Cardinal : 


THE 
SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


CHAPTER I 


“Good cheer! Good cheer!” exulted the Cardinal 


HE aartea through the orange orchard search- 
ing for slugs for his breakfast, and between whiles 
he rocked on the branches and rang over his mes- 
sage of encouragement to men. The song of the 
Cardinal was overflowing with joy, for this was his 
holiday, his playtime. The southern world was 
filled with brilliant sunshine, gaudy flowers, an 
abundance of fruit, myriads of insects, and never a 
thing to do except to bathe, feast and be happy. 
No wonder his song was a prophecy of good cheer 
for the future, for happiness made up the whole of 
his past. 

The Cardinal was only a yearling, yet his crest 

1 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


flared high, his beard was crisp and black, and he 
was a very prodigy in size and coloring. Fathers 
of his family that had accomplished many migra- 
tions appeared small beside him, and coats that had 
been shed season after season seemed dull compared 
with his. It was as if a pulsing heart of flame 
passed by when he came winging through the or- 
chard. 

Last season the cardinal had pipped his shell, 
away to the north, in that paradise of the birds, 
the Limberlost. There thousands of acres of black 
marsh-muck stretch under summers’ sun and win- 
ters’ snows. ‘There are darksome pools of murky 
water, bits of swale and high morass. Giants of 
the forest reach skyward, or, coated with velvet 
slime, lie decaying in sun-flecked pools, while the 
underbrush is almost impenetrable. 

The swamp resembles a big dining-table for the 
birds. Wild grape-vines clamber to the tops of 
the highest trees, spreading umbrella-wise over the 
branches, and their festooned floating trailers wave 
like silken fringe in the play of the wind. The 

2 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


birds loll in the shade, peel bark, gather dried 
curlers for nest material, and feast on the pungent 
fruit. 'They chatter in swarms over the wild-cherry 
trees, and overload their crops with red haws, wild 
plums, papaws, blackberries and mandrake. The 
alders around the edge draw flocks in search of ber- 
ries, and the marsh grasses and weeds are weighted 
with seed hunters. The muck is alive with worms; 
and the whole swamp ablaze with flowers, whose 
colors and perfumes attract myriads of insects and 
butterflies. 

Wild creepers flaunt their red and gold from the 
tree-tops, and the bumblebees and humming-birds 
make common cause in rifling the honey-laden trum- 
pets. The air around the wild-plum and red-haw 
trees is vibrant with the beating wings of millions 
of wild bees, and the bee-birds feast to gluttony. 
The fetid odors of the swamp draw insects in 
swarms, and fly-catchers tumble and twist in air in 
pursuit of them. 

Every hollow tree homes its colony of bats. 
Snakes sun on the bushes. The water folk leave 

3 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


trails of shining ripples in their wake as they cross 
the lagoons. Turtles waddle clumsily from the 
logs. Frogs take graceful flying leaps from pool 
to pool. Everything native to that section of the 
country—underground, creeping or a-wing—can 
be found in the Limberlost; but above all it is the 
chosen habitation of the birds. 

Dainty green warblers nest in its tree-tops, and 
red-eyed vireos choose a location below. It is the 
home of bell-birds, finches, and thrushes. There are 
flocks of blackbirds, grackles, and crows. Jays 
and catbirds quarrel constantly, and marsh-wrens 
keep up never-ending chatter. Orioles swing their 
pendent purses from the branches, and with the 
tanagers picnic on mulberries and insects. In 
the evening, night-hawks dart on silent wing; 
whippoorwills set up a plaintive cry that they con- 
tinue far into the night; and owls revel in moon- 
light and rich hunting. At dawn, robins wake the 
echoes of each new day with the admonition, “Cheer 
up! Cheer up!” and a little later big black vultures 
go wheeling through cloudland or hang there, like 

4 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


frozen splashes, searching the Limberlost and the 
surrounding country for food. The boom of the 
bittern resounds all day, and above it the rasping 
scream of the blue heron, as he strikes terror to the 
hearts of frogdom; while the occasional cries of a 
lost loon, strayed from its flock in northern migra- 
tion, fill the swamp with sounds of wailing. 
Flashing through the tree-tops of the Limberlost 
there are birds whose color is more brilliant than 
that of the gaudiest flower lifting its face to light 
and air. The lilies of the mire are not so white as 
the white herons that fish among them. ‘The ripest 
spray of goldenrod is not so highly colored as the 
burnished gold on the breast of the oriole that 
rocks on it. ‘The jays are bluer than the calamus 
bed they wrangle above with throaty chatter. The 
finches are a finer purple than the ironwort. For 
every clump of foxfire flaming in the Limberlost, 
there is a cardinal glowing redder on a bush above 
it. These may not be more numerous than other 
birds, but their brilliant coloring and the fearless 
5 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


disposition that keep them forever in evidence make 
them seem so. : 

The Cardinal was hatched in a thicket of sweet- 
brier and blackberry. His father was a tough old 
widower of many experiences and variable temper. 
He was the biggest, most aggressive redbird in the 
Limberlost, and easily reigned king of his kind. 
Catbirds, king-birds, and shrikes gave him a wide 
berth, and not even the ever-quarrelsome jays 
plucked up enough courage to antagonize him. A 
few days after his latest bereavement, he saw a fine, 
plump young female; and she so filled his eye that 
he gave her no rest until she permitted his caresses, 
and carried the first twig to the wild rose. She was 
very proud to mate with the king of the Limber- 
lost; and if deep in her heart she felt transient 
fears of her lordly master, she gave no sign, for 
she was a bird of goodly proportion and fine feather 
herself. 

She chose her location with the eye of an artist, 
and the judgment of a nest builder of more experi- 
ence. It would be difficult for snakes and squirrels 


6 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


to penetrate that briery thicket. The white berry 
blossoms scarcely had ceased to attract a swarm of 
insects before the sweets of the roses recalled them; 
by the time they had faded, luscious big berries 
ripened within reach and drew food hunters. She 
built with far more than ordinary care. It was a 
beautiful nest, not nearly so loose and shackly as 
those of her kindred all through the swamp. There 
was a distinct attempt at a cup shape, and it really 
was neatly lined with dried blades of sweet marsh 
grass. But it was in the laying of her first egg 
that the queen cardinal forever distinguished her- 
self. She was a fine healthful bird, full of love and 
happiness over her first venture in nest-building, 
and she so far surpassed herself on that occasion 
she had difficulty in convincing any one that she was 
responsible for the result. 

Indeed, she was compelled to lift beak and wing 
against her mate in defense of this egg, for it was 
so unusually large that he could not be persuaded 
short of force that some sneak of the feathered 
tribe had not slipped in and deposited it in her ab- 

7 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


sence. The king felt sure there was something 
wrong with the egg, and wanted to roll it from the 
nest ; but the queen knew her own, and stoutly bat- 
tled for its protection. She further increased their 
prospects by laying three others. After that the 
king made up his mind that she was a most remark- 
able bird, and went away pleasure-seeking ; but the 
queen settled to brooding, a picture of joyous faith 
and contentment. 

Through all the long days, when the heat became 
intense, and the king was none too thoughtful of 
her appetite or comfort, she nestled those four eggs 
against her breast and patiently waited. The big 
egg was her treasure. She gave it constant care. 
Many times in a day she turned it; and always 
against her breast there was the individual pressure 
that distinguished it from the others. It was the 
first to hatch, of course, and the queen felt that she 
had enough if all the others failed her; for this 
egg pipped with a resounding pip, and before the 
silky down was really dry on the big terra-cotta 

8 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


body, the young Cardinal arose and lustily de- 
manded food. 

The king came to see him and at once acknowl- 
edged subjugation. He was the father of many 
promising cardinals, yet he never had seen one like 
this. He set the Limberlost echoes rolling with his 
jubilant rejoicing. He unceasingly hunted for the 
ripest berries and seed. He stuffed that baby from 
morning until night, and never came with food that 
he did not find him standing atop the others call- 
ing for more. The queen was just as proud of 
him and quite as foolish in her idolatry, but she 
kept tally and gave the remainder every other worm 
in turn. They were unusually fine babies, but what 
chance has merely a fine baby in a family that pos- 
sesses a prodigy? The Cardinal was as large as 
any two of the other nestlings, and so red the very 
down on him seemed tinged with crimson; his skin 
and even his feet were red. 

He was the first to climb to the edge of the nest 
and the first to hop on a limb. He surprised his 
parents by finding a slug, and winged his first 

9 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


flight to such a distance that his adoring mother 
almost went into spasms lest his strength might 
fail, and he would fall into the swamp and become 
the victim of a hungry old turtle. He returned 
safely, however; and the king was so pleased he 
hunted him an unusually ripe berry, and perching 
before him, gave him his first language lesson. Of 
course, the Cardinal knew how to cry “Pee” and 
“Chee” when he burst his shell ; but the king taught 
him to chip with accuracy and expression, and he 
learned that very day that male birds of the cardi- 
nal family always call “Chip,” and the females 
*“Chook.” In fact, he learned so rapidly and was 
generally so observant, that before the king 
thought it wise to give the next lesson, he found 
him on a limb, his beak closed, his throat swelling, 
practising his own rendering of the tribal calls, 
“Wheat! Wheat! Wheat!” ‘Here! Here! Here!” 
and “Cheer! Cheer! Cheer!” This so delighted the 
king that he whistled them over and over and helped 
the youngster all he could. 

He was so proud of him that this same night he 

10 


a 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


gave him his first lesson in tucking his head prop- 
erly and going to sleep alone. In a few more days, 
when he was sure of his wing strength, he gave him 
instructions in flying. He taught him how to 
spread his wings and slowly sail from tree to tree; 
how to fly in short broken curves, to avoid the aim 
of a hunter; how to turn abruptly in air and make 
a quick dash after a bug or an enemy. He taught 
him the proper angle at which to breast a stiff wind, 
and that he always should meet a storm head first, 
so that the water would run as the plumage lay. 
His first bathing lesson was a pronounced suc- 
cess. The Cardinal enjoyed water like a duck. He 
bathed, splashed, and romped until his mother was 
almost crazy for fear he would attract a water- 
snake or turtle; but the element of fear was not a 
part of his disposition. He learned to dry, dress, 
and plume his feathers, and showed such remarka- 
ble pride in keeping himself immaculate, that al- 
though only a youngster, he was already a bird of 
such great promise, that many of the feathered in- 
habitants of the Limberlost came to pay him a call. 
11 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


Next, the king took him on a long trip around 
the swamp, and taught him how to select the proper 
places to hunt for worms; how to search under 
leaves for plant-lice and slugs for meat ; which ber- 
ries were good and safe, and the kind of weeds that 
bore the most and best seeds. He showed him how 
to find tiny pebbles to grind his food, and how to 
sharpen and polish his beak. 

Then he took up the real music lessons, and 
taught him how to whistle and how to warble and 
trill. “Good Cheer ! Good Cheer!” intoned the king. 
“Coo Cher! Coo Cher!” imitated the Cardinal. 
These songs were only studied repetitions, but there 
was a depth and volume in his voice that gave 
promise of future greatness, when age should have 
developed him, and experience awakened his emo- 
tions. He was an excellent musician for a young- 
ster. 

He soon did so well in caring for himself, in find- 
ing food and in flight, and grew so big and inde- 
pendent, that he made numerous excursions alone 
through the Limberlost ; and so impressive were his 

12 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


proportions, and so aggressive his manners, that he 
suffered no molestation. In fact, the reign of the 
king promised to end speedily; but if he feared it 
he made no sign, and his pride in his wonderful off- 
spring was always manifest. After the Cardinal 
had explored the swamp thoroughly, a longing for 
a wider range grew upon him; and day after day 
he lingered around the borders, looking across the 
wide cultivated fields, almost aching to test his 
wings in one long, high, wild stretch of flight. 

A day came when the heat of late summer set the 
marsh steaming, and the Cardinal, flying close to 
the borders, caught the breeze from the upland; and 
the vision of broad fields stretching toward the 
north so enticed him that he spread his wings, and 
following the line of trees and fences as much as 
possible, he made his first journey from home. That 
day was so delightful it decided his fortunes. It 
would seem that the swamp, so appreciated by his 
kindred, should have been sufficient for the Cardi- 
nal, but it was not. With every mile he winged his 
flight, came a greater sense of power and strength, 

13 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


and a keener love for the broad sweep of field and 
forest. His heart bounded with the zest of rock- 
ing on the wind, racing through the sunshine and 
sailing over the endless panorama of waving corn 
fields, meadows, orchards and woodlands. 

The heat and closeness of the Limberlost seemed 
a prison well escaped, as on and on he flew in 
straight untiring flight. Crossing a field of half- 
ripened corn that sloped to the river, the Cardinal 
saw many birds feeding there, so he alighted on a 
tall tree to watch them. Soon he decided that he 
would like to try this new food. He found a place 
where a crow had left an ear nicely laid open, and 
clinging to the husk, as he saw the others do, he 
stretched to his full height and drove his strong 
sharp beak into the creamy grain. After the 
stifling swamp hunting, after the long exciting 
flight, to rock on this swaying corn and drink the 
rich milk of the grain, was to the Cardinal his first 
taste of nectar and ambrosia. He lifted his head 
when he came to the golden kernel, and chipping 

14 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


it in tiny specks, he tasted and approved with all 
the delight of an epicure in a delicious new dish. 

Perhaps there were other treats in the next field. 
He decided to fly even farther. But he had gone 
only a short distance when he changed his course 
and turned to the South, for below him was a long, 
shining, creeping thing, fringed with willows, while 
towering above them were giant sycamore, maple, 
tulip, and elm trees that caught and rocked with 
the wind; and the Cardinal did not know what it 
was. Filled with wonder he dropped lower and 
lower. Birds were everywhere, many flying over 
and dipping into it; but its clear creeping silver 
was a mystery to the Cardinal. 

The beautiful river of poetry and song that the 
Indians first discovered, and later with the French, 
named Ouabache; the winding shining river that 
Logan and Me-shin-go-me-sia loved; the only river 
that could tempt Wa-ca-co-nah from the Salamonie 
and Mississinewa; the river beneath whose silver 
sycamores and giant maples Chief Godfrey trav- 

15 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


eled many miles to pitch his camp-fires, was never 
more beautiful than on that perfect autumn day. 

With his feathers pressed closely, the Cardinal 
alighted on a willow, and leaned to look, quivering 
with excitement and uttering explosive “chips”; for 
there he was, face to face with a big redbird that 
appeared neither peaceful nor timid. He uttered 
an impudent “Chip” of challenge, which, as it left 
his beak was flung back to him. The Cardinal 
flared his crest and half lifted his wings, stiffening 
them at the butt; the bird he was facing did the 
same. In his surprise he arose to his full height 
with a dexterous little side step, and the other bird 
straightened and side-stepped exactly with him. 
This was too insulting for the Cardinal. Straining 
every muscle, he made a dash at the impudent 
stranger. 

He struck the water with such force that it 
splashed above the willows, and a kingfisher, sta- 
tioned on a stump opposite him, watching the shoals 
for minnows, saw it. He spread his beak and bel- 
lowed with rattling laughter, until his voice re- 


16 


~~ ee 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


echoed from point to point down the river. The 
Cardinal scarcely knew how he got out, but he had 
learned a new lesson. That beautiful, shining, 
creeping thing was water; not thick, tepid, black 
marsh water, but pure, cool, silver water. He shook 
his plumage, feeling a degree redder from shame, 
but he would not be laughed into leaving. He 
found it too delightful. In a short time he ven- 
tured down and took a sip, and it was the first real 
drink of his life. Oh, but it was good! 

When thirst from the heat and his long flight 
was quenched, he ventured in for a bath, and that 
was a new and delightful experience. How he 
splashedandsplashed, and sent the silver drops fly- 
ing! How he ducked and soaked and cooled in 
that rippling water, in which he might remain as 
long as he pleased and splash his fill; for he could 
see the bottom for a long distance all around, and 
easily could avoid anything attempting to harm 
him. He was so wet when his bath was finished he 
scarcely could reach a bush to dry and dress his 
plumage. 

17 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL! 


Once again in perfect feather, he remembered the 
bird of the water, and returned to the willow. 
There in the depths of the shining river the Cardi- 
nal discovered himself, and his heart swelled big 
with just pride. Was that broad full breast his? 
Where had he seen any other cardinal with a crest 
so high it waved in the wind? How big and black 
his eyes were, and his beard was almost as long and 
crisp as his father’s. He spread his wings and 
gloated on their sweep, and twisted and flirted his 
tail. He went over his toilet again and dressed 
every feather on him. He scoured the back of his 
neck with the butt of his wings, and tucking his 
head under them, slowly drew it out time after time 
to polish his crest. He turned and twisted. He 
rocked and paraded, and every glimpse he caught 
of his size and beauty filled him with pride. He 
strutted like a peacock and chattered like a jay. 

When he could find no further points to admire, 
something else caught his attention. When he 
“chipped” there was an answering “Chip” across 
the river; certainly there was no cardinal there, so 

18 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


it must be that he was hearing his own voice as well 
as seeing himself. Selecting a conspicuous perch 
he sent an incisive “Chip!” across the water, and in 
kind it came back to him. Then he “chipped” 
softly and tenderly, as he did in the Limberlost to 
a favorite little sister that often came and perched 
beside him in the maple where he slept, and softly 
and tenderly came the answer. Then the Cardinal 
understood. ‘Wheat! Wheat! Wheat!” He whistled 
it high, and he whistled it low. ‘Cheer! Cheer! 
Cheer!” He whistled it tenderly and sharply and 
imperiously. “Here! Here! Here!” At this ringing 
command, every bird, as far as the river carried his 
voice, came to investigate and remained to admire. 
Over and over he rang every change he could in- 
vent. He made a gallant effort at warbling and 
trilling, and then, with the gladdest heart he ever 
had known, he burst into ringing song: “Good 
Cheer! Good Cheer! Good Cheer!” 

‘As evening came on he grew restless and uneasy, 
so he slowly winged his way back to the Limberlost ; 
but that day forever spoiled him for a swamp bird. 

19 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


In the night he restlessly ruffled his feathers, and 
sniffed for the breeze of the meadows. He tasted 
the corn and the clear water again. He admired 
his image in the river, and longed for the sound of 
his voice, until he began murmuring, “Wheat! 
Wheat! Wheat!’ in his sleep. In the earliest dawn 
a robin awoke him singing, “Cheer up! Cheer up!” 
and he answered with a sleepy “Cheer! Cheer! 


’? Later the robin sang again with ex- 


Cheer 
quisite softness and tenderness, ‘‘Cheer up, Dearie! 
Cheer up, Dearie! Cheer up! Cheer up! Cheer!” 
The Cardinal, now fully awakened, shouted lustily, 
“Good Cheer! Good Cheer!” and after that it was 
only a short time until he was on his way toward 
the shining river. It was better than before, and 
every following day found him feasting in the corn 
field and bathing in the shining water; but he al- 
ways returned to his family at nightfall. 

When black frosts began to strip the Limberlost, 
and food was almost reduced to dry seed, there came 
a day on which the king marshaled his followers 
and gave the magic signal. With dusk he led them 


20 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


southward, mile after mile, until their breath fell 
short, and their wings ached with unaccustomed 
flight; but because of the trips to the river, the 
Cardinal was stronger than the others, and he easily 
kept abreast of the king. In the early morning, 
even before the robins were awake, the king settled 
in the Everglades. But the Cardinal had lost all 
liking for swamp) life, so he stubbornly set out 
alone, and in a short time he had found another 
river. It was not quite so delightful as the shining 
river ; but still it was beautiful, and on its gently 
sloping bank was an orange orchard. ‘There the 
Cardinal rested, and found a winter home after his 
heart’s desire. 

The following morning, a golden-haired little 
girl and an old man with snowy locks came hand in 
hand through the orchard. The child saw the red- 
bird and immediately claimed him, and that same 
day the edict went forth that a very dreadful time 
was in store for any one who harmed or even 
frightened the Cardinal. So in security began a 
series of days that were pure delight. The orchard 

21 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


was alive with insects, attracted by the heavy odors, 
and slugs infested the bark. Feasting was almost 
as good as in the Limberlost, and always there was 
the river to drink from and to splash in at will. 

In those days the child and the old man lingered 
for hours in the orchard, watching the bird that 
every day seemed to grow bigger and brighter. 
What a picture his coat, now a bright cardinal red, 
made against the waxy green leaves! How big and 
brilliant he seemed as he raced and darted in play 
among the creamy blossoms! How the little girl 
stood with clasped hands worshiping him, as with 
swelling throat, he rocked on the highest spray and 
sang his inspiring chorus over and over, “Good 
Cheer! Good Cheer!’ Every day they came to 
watch and listen. They scattered crumbs; and the 
Cardinal grew so friendly that he greeted their 
coming with a quick “Chip! Chip!” while the de- 
lighted child tried to repeat it after him. Soon 
they became such friends that when he saw them 
approaching he would call softly “Chip! Chip!” 

22 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


and then with beady eyes and tilted head await her 
reply. 

Sometimes a member of his family from the 
Everglades found his way into the orchard, and the 
Cardinal, having grown to feel a sense of proprie- 
torship, resented the intrusion and pursued him like 
a streak of flame. Whenever any straggler had 
this experience, he returned to the swamp realizing 
that the cardinal of the orange orchard was almost 
twice his size and strength, and so startlingly red 
as to be a wonder. 

One day a gentle breeze from the north sprang 
up and stirred the orange branches, wafting the 
heavy perfume across the land and out to sea, and 
spread in its stead a cool, delicate, pungent odor. 
The Cardinal lifted his head and whistled an in- 
quiring note. He was not certain, and went on 
searching for slugs, and predicting happiness in 
full round notes: ‘Good Cheer! Good Cheer!’ 
Again the odor swept the orchard, so strong that 
this time there was no mistaking it. The Cardinal 
darted to the topmost branch, his crest flaring, his 

23 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


tail twitching nervously. “Chip! Chip!” he cried 
with excited insistence, “Chip! Chip!’ 

The breeze was coming stiffly and steadily now, 
unlike anything the Cardinal ever had known, for 
its cool breath told of ice-bound fields breaking up 
under the sun. Its damp touch was from the spring 
showers washing the face of the northland. Its 
subtle odor was the commingling of myriads of un- 
folding leaves and crisp plants, upspringing; its 
pungent perfume was the pollen of catkins. 

Up in the land of the Limberlost, old Mother 
Nature, with strident muttering, had set about her 
annual house-cleaning. With her efficient broom, 
the March wind, she was sweeping every nook and 
cranny clean. With her scrub-bucket overflowing — 
with April showers, she was washing the face of all 
creation, and if these measures failed to produce 
cleanliness to her satisfaction, she gave a final 
polish with storms of hail. The shining river was 
filled to overflowing ; breaking up the ice and carry- 
ing a load of refuse, it went rolling to the sea. The 
ice and snow had not altogether gone; but the long- 

Q4 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


pregnant earth was mothering her children. She 
cringed at every step, for the ground was teeming 
with life. Bug and worm were working to light 
and warmth. Thrusting aside the mold and leaves 
above them, spring beauties, hepaticas, and violets 
lifted tender golden-green heads. The sap was 
flowing, and leafless trees were covered with swell- 
ing buds. Delicate mosses were creeping over every 
stick of decaying timber. The lichens on stone and 
fence were freshly painted in unending shades of 
gray and green. Myriads of flowers and vines 
were springing up to cover last year’s decaying 
leaves. ‘The beautiful uncut hair of graves” was 
creeping over meadow, spreading beside roadways, 
and blanketing every naked spot. 

The Limberlost was waking to life even ahead of 
the fields and the river. Through the winter it had 
been the barest and dreariest of places ; but now the 
earliest signs of returning spring were in its mar- 
tial music, for when the green hyla pipes, and the 
bullfrog drums, the bird voices soon join them. The 
catkins bloomed first; and then, in an incredibly 


25 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


short time, flags, rushes, and vines were like a sea 
of waving green, and swelling buds were ready to 
burst. In the upland the smoke was curling over 
sugar-camp and clearing; in the forests animals 
were rousing from their long sleep; the shad were 
starting anew their never-ending journey up the 
shining river; peeps of green were mantling hilltop 
and valley; and the northland was ready for its 
dearest springtime treasures to come home again. 
From overhead were ringing those first glad 
notes, caught nearer the Throne than those of any 
other bird, “Spring o’ the year! Spring o’ the 
year !”; while stilt-legged little killdeers were scud- 
ding around the Limberlost and beside the river, 
flinging from cloudland their “Kill deer! Kill 
deer!’ call. The robins in the orchards were pull- 
‘ing the long dried blades of last year’s grass from 
beneath the snow to line their mud-walled cups ; and 
the bluebirds were at the hollow apple tree. Flat 
on the top rail, the doves were gathering their few 
coarse sticks and twigs together. It was such a 
splendid place to set their cradle. The weather- 
26 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


beaten, rotting old rails were the very color of the 
busy dove mother. Her red-rimmed eye fitted into 
the background like a tiny scarlet lichen cup. 
Surely no one would ever see her! The Limberlost 
and shining river, the fields and forests, the way- 
side bushes and fences, the stumps, logs, hollow 
trees, even the bare brown breast of Mother Earth, 
were all waiting to cradle their own again; and by 
one of the untold miracles each would return to its 
place. 

There was intoxication in the air. The subtle, 
pungent, ravishing odors on the wind, of unfolding 
leaves, ice-water washed plants, and catkin pollen, 
were an elixir to humanity. The cattle of the field 
were fairly drunk with it, and herds, dry-fed dur- 
ing the winter, were coming to their first grazing 
with heads thrown high, romping, bellowing, and 
racing like wild things. 

The north wind, sweeping from icy fastnesses, 
caught this odor of spring, and carried it to the 
orange orchards and Everglades; and at a breath 
of it, crazed with excitement, the Cardinal went 


aq 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


flaming through the orchard, for with no one to 
teach him, he knew what it meant. ‘The call had 
come. Holidays were over. 

It was time to go home, time to riot in crisp 
freshness, time to go courting, time to make love, 
time to possess his own, time for mating and nest- 
building. All that day he flashed around, nervous 
with dread of the unknown, and palpitant with de- 
lightful expectation; but with the coming of dusk 
he began his journey northward. 

When he passed the Everglades, he winged his 
way slowly, and repeatedly sent down a challenging 
“Chip,” but there was no answer. ‘Then the Car- 
dinal knew that the north wind had carried a true 
message, for the king and his followers were ahead 
of him on their way to the Limberlost. Mile after 
mile, a thing of pulsing fire, he breasted the blue- 
black night, and it was not so very long until he 
could discern: a flickering patch of darkness sweep- 
ing the sky before him. The Cardinal flew stead- 
ily in a straight sweep, until with a throb of tri- 
umph in his heart, he arose in his course, and from 

28 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


far overhead, flung down a boastful challenge to 
the king and his followers, as he sailed above them 
and was lost from sight. 

It was still dusky with the darkness of night 
when he crossed the Limberlost, dropping low 
enough to see its branches laid bare, to catch a 
gleam of green in its swelling buds, and to hear the 
wavering chorus of its frogs. But there was no 
hesitation in his flight. Straight and sure he 
winged his way toward the shining river; and it 
was only a few more miles until the rolling waters 
of its springtime flood caught his eye. Dropping 
precipitately, he plunged his burning beak into the 
loved water ; then he flew into a fine old stag sumac 
and tucked his head under his wing for a short rest. 
He had made the long flight in one unbroken sweep, 
and he was sleepy. In utter content he ruffled his 
feathers and closed his eyes, for he was beside the 
shining river; and it would be another season be- 
fore the orange orchard would ring again with his 


“Good Cheer ! Good Cheer !”” 


CHAPTER II 


“Wet year! Wet year!’ prophesied the Cardinal. 


"THE sumac seemed to fill his idea of a perfect 
location from the very first. He perched on a limb, 
and between dressing his plumage and pecking at 
last year’s sour dried berries, he sent abroad his pre- 
diction. Old Mother Nature verified his wisdom by 
sending a dashing shower, but he cared not at all 
for a wetting. He knew how to turn his crimson 
suit into the most perfect of water-proof coats; so 
he flattened his crest, sleeked his feathers, and 
breasting the April downpour, kept on calling for 
rain. He knew he would appear brighter when it 
was past, and he seemed to know, too, that every 
day of sunshine and shower would bring nearer his 
heart’s desire. 

He was a very Beau Brummel while he waited. 
From morning until night he bathed, dressed his 

30 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


feathers, sunned himself, fluffed and flirted. He 
strutted and “chipped” incessantly. He claimed 
that sumac for his very own, and stoutly battled 
for possession with many intruders. It grew ona 
densely wooded slope, and the shining river went 
singing between grassy banks, whitened with 
spring beauties, below it. Crowded around it were 
thickets of papaw, wild grape-vines, thorn, dog- 
wood, and red haw, that attracted bug and insect; 
and just across the old snake fence was a field of 
mellow mold sloping to the river, that soon would 
be plowed for corn, turning out numberless big fat 
grubs. 

He was compelled almost hourly to wage battles 
for his location, for there was something fine about 
the old stag sumac that attracted homestead seek- 
ers. A sober pair of robins began laying their 
foundations there the morning the Cardinal ar- 
rived, and a couple of blackbirds tried to take pos- 
session before the day had passed. He had little 
trouble with the robins. They: were easily con-| 
quered, and with small protest settled a rod up the 

31 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


bank in a wild-plum tree ; but the air was thick with 
“chips,” chatter, and red and black feathers, be- 
fore the blackbirds acknowledged defeat. They 
were old-timers, and knew about the grubs and the 
young corn; but they also knew when they were 
beaten, so they moved down stream to a scrub oak, 
trying to assure each other that it was the place 
they really had wanted from the first. 

The Cardinal was left boasting and strutting on 
the sumac, but in his heart he found it lonesome 
business. Being the son of a king, he was much 
too dignified to beg for a mate, and besides, it took 
all his time to guard the sumac; but his eyes were 
wide open to all that went on around him, and he 
envied the blackbird his glossy, devoted little sweet- 
heart with all his might. He almost strained his 
voice trying to rival the love-song of a skylark that 
hung among the clouds above a meadow across the 
river, and poured down to his mate a story of ador- 
ing love and sympathy. He screamed a “Chip” 
of such savage jealousy at a pair of killdeer lovers 
that he sent them scampering down the river bank 


32 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


without knowing that the crime of which they stood 
convicted was that of being mated when he was not. 
As for the doves that were already brooding on the 
line fence under the maples, the Cardinal was torn 
between two opinions. 

He was alone, he was love-sick, and he was hold- 
ing the finest building location beside the shining 
river for his mate, and her slowness in coming made 
their devotion difficult to endure when he coveted a 
true love; but it seemed to the Cardinal that he 
never could so forget himself as to emulate the ex- 
ample of that dove lover. The dove had no dig- 
nity; he was so effusive he was a nuisance. He 
kept his dignified Quaker mate stuffed to discom- 
fort; he clung to the side of the nest trying to help 
brood until he almost crowded her from the eggs. 
He pestered her with caresses and cooed over his 
love-song until every chipmunk on the line fence 
was familiar with his story. The Cardinal’s tem- 
per was worn to such a fine edge that he darted at 
the dove one day and pulled a big tuft of feathers 
from his back. When he had returned to the 

33 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


sumac, he was compelled to admit that his anger 
lay quite as much in that he had no one to love as 
because the dove was disgustingly devoted. 

Every morning brought new arrivals,—trim 
young females fresh from their long holiday, and 
big boastful males appearing their brightest and 
bravest, each singer almost splitting his throat in 
the effort to captivate the mate he coveted. They 
came flashing down the river bank, like rockets of 
scarlet, gold, blue, and black; rocking on the wil- 
lows, splashing in the water, bursting into jets of 
melody, making every possible display of their 
beauty and music; and at times fighting fiercely 
when they discovered that the females they were 
wooing favored their rivals and desired only to be 
friendly with them. 

The heart of the Cardinal sank as he watched. 
There was not a member of his immediate family 
among them. He pitied himself as he wondered if 
fate had in store for him the trials he saw others 
suffering. Those dreadful feathered females! How 
they coquetted! How they flirted! How they 

34 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


sleeked and flattened their plumage, and with half- 
open beaks and sparkling eyes, hopped closer and 
closer as if charmed. The eager singers, with 
swelling throats, sang and sang in a very frenzy of 
extravagant pleading, but just when they felt sure 
their little loves were on the point of surrender, a 
rod distant above the bushes would go streaks of 
feathers, and there was nothing left but to endure 
the bitter disappointment, follow them, and begin 
all over. For the last three days the Cardinal had 
been watching his cousin, rose-breasted Grosbeak, 
make violent love to the most exquisite little female, 
who apparently encouraged his advances, only to 
see him left sitting as blue and disconsolate as any 
human lover, when he discovers that the maid who 
has coquetted with him for a season belongs to an- 
other man. 

The Cardinal flew to the very top of the highest 
sycamore and looked across country toward the 
Limberlost. Should he go there seeking a swamp 
mate among his kindred? It was not an endurable 
thought. To be sure, matters were becoming seri- 


35 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


ous. No bird beside the shining river had plumed, 
paraded, or made more music than he. Was it all 
to be wasted? By this time he confidently had ex- 
pected results. Only that morning he had swelled 
with pride as he heard Mrs. Jay tell her quarrel- 
some husband that she wished she could exchange 
him for the Cardinal. Did not the gentle dove 
pause by the sumac, when she left brooding to take 
her morning dip in the dust, and gaze at him with 
unconcealed admiration? No doubt she devoutly 
wished her plain pudgy husband wore a scarlet 
coat. But it is praise from one’s own sex that is 
praise indeed, and only an hour ago the lark had 
reported that from his lookout above cloud he saw 
no other singer anywhere so splendid as the cardi- 
nal of the sumac. Because of these things he held 
fast to his conviction that he was a prince indeed; 
and he decided to remain in his chosen location and 
with his physical and vocal attractions compel the 
finest little cardinal in the fields to seek him. 

He planned it all very carefully. How she would 
hear his splendid music and come to take a peep at 


36 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


him; how she would be captivated by his size and 
beauty ; how she would come timidly, but come, of 
course, for his approval; how he would condescend 
to accept her if she pleased him in all particulars; 
how she would be devoted to him; and how she 
would approve his choice of a home for the sumac 
was in a lovely spot for scenery, as well as nest- 
building. For several days he had boasted, he had 
bantered, he had challenged, he had on this last day 
almost condescended to coaxing, but not one little 
bright-eyed cardinal female had come to offer her- 
self. 

The performance of a brown thrush drove him 
wild with envy. The thrush came gliding up the 
river bank, a rusty-coated, sneaking thing of the 
underbrush, and taking possession of a thorn bush 
just opposite the sumac, he sang for an hour in the 
open. ‘There was no way to improve that music. 
It was woven fresh from the warp and woof of his 
fancy. It was a song so filled with the joy and 
gladness of spring, notes so thrilled with love’s 
pleading and passion’s tender pulsing pain, that at 

37 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


its close there were a half-dozen admiring thrush 
females gathered around. With care and delibera- 
tion the brown thrush selected the most attractive, 
and she followed him to the thicket as if charmed. 

It was the Cardinal’s dream materialized for an- 
other before his very eyes, and it filled him with 
envy. If that plain brown bird that slinked as if 
he had a theft to account for, could, by showing 
himself and singing for an hour, win a mate, why 
should not he, the most gorgeous bird of the woods, 
openly flaunting his charms and discoursing his 
music, have at least equal success? Should he, the 
proudest, most magnificent of cardinals, be com- 
pelled to go seeking a mate like any common bird? 
Perish the thought! 

He went to the river to bathe. After finding a 
spot where the water flowed crystal-clear over a bed 
of white limestone, he washed until he felt that he 
could be no cleaner. Then the Cardinal went to 
his favorite sun-parlor, and stretching on a limb, he 
stood his feathers on end, and sunned, fluffed and 
prinked until he was immaculate. 

38 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


On the tip-top antler of the old stag sumac, he 
perched and strained until his jetty whiskers ap- 
peared stubby. He poured out a tumultuous cry 
vibrant with every passion raging in him. He 
caught up his own rolling echoes and changed and 
varied them. He improvised, and set the shining 
river ringing, “Wet year! Wet year!” 

He whistled and whistled until all birdland and 
even mankind heard, for the farmer paused at his 
kitchen door, with his pails of foaming milk, and 
called to his wife: 

“Hear that, Maria! Jest hearit! I swanny, if 
that bird doesn’t stop predictin’ wet weather, I’ll 
get so scared I won’t durst put in my corn afore 
June. They’s some birds like killdeers an’ bob- 
whites ’at can make things pretty plain, but I never 
heard a bird ’at could jest speak words out clear an’ 
distinct like that fellow. Seems to come from the 
river bottom. B’lieve I’ll jest step down that way 
an’ see if the lower field is ready for the plow yet.” 

‘Abram Johnson,” said his wife, “bein’s you set 
up for an honest man, if you want to trapes 


39 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


through slush an’ drizzle a half-mile to see a bird, 
why say so, but don’t for land’s sake, lay it on to 
plowin’ ’at you know in all conscience won’t be 
ready for a week yet *thout pretendin’ to look.” 

Abram grinned sheepishly. “I’m willin’ to call 
it the bird if you are, Maria. I’ve been hearin’ 
him from the barn all day, an’ there’s somethin’ 
kind o’ human in his notes ’at takes me jest a little 
diffrunt from any other bird I ever noticed. I’m 
really curious to set eyes on him. Seemed to me 
from his singin’ out to the barn, it ud be mighty 
near like meetin’ folks.” 

Bosh!’ exclaimed Maria. “I don’t s’pose he 
sings a mite better ’an any other bird. -It’s jest the 
old Wabash rollin’ up the echoes. <A bird singin’ 
beside the river always sounds twict as fine as one 
on the hills. Dve knowed that for forty year. 
Chances are ’at he’ll be gone ’fore you get there.” 

‘As Abram opened the door, “Wet year! Wet 
year!” pealed the flaming prophet. 

He went out, closing the door softly, and with an 

40 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


utter disregard for the corn field, made a bee line 
for the musician. 

“T don’t know as this is the best for twinges 0’ 
rheumatiz,” he muttered, as he turned up his collar 
and drew his old hat lower to keep the splashing 
drops from his face. “I don’t jest rightly s’pose 
I should go; but I’m free to admit I’d as lief be 
dead as not to answer when I get a call, an’ the fact 
is, I’m called down beside the river.” 

“Wet year! Wet year!” rolled the Cardinal’s 
prediction. 

“Thanky, old fellow! Glad to hear you! Didn’t 
jest need the information, but I got my bearin’s 
rightly from it! I can about pick out your bush, 
an’ it’s well along towards evenin’, too, an’ must be 
mighty near your bedtime. Looks as if you might 
be stayin’ round these parts! Id like it powerful 
well if you’d settle right here, say “bout where you 
are. An’ where are you, anyway?” 

Abram went peering and dodging beside the 
fence, peeping into the bushes, searching for the 

41 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


bird. Suddenly there was a whir of wings and a 
streak of crimson. 

*“‘Scared you into the next county, I s’pose,” he 
muttered. 

But it came nearer being a scared man than a 
frightened bird, for the Cardinal flashed straight 
toward him until only a few yards away, and then, 
swaying on a bush, it chipped, cheered, peeked, 
whistled broken notes, and manifested perfect de- 
light at the sight of the white-haired old man. 
Abram stared in astonishment. 

“Lord A’mighty!’ he gasped. “Big as a black- 
bird, red as a live coal, an’ a-comin’ right at me. 
You are somebody’s pet, that’s what you are! An’ 
no, you ain’t either. Settin’ on a sawed stick in a 
little wire house takes all the ginger out of any bird, 
an’ their feathers are always mussy. Inside o’ a 
cage never saw you, for they ain’t a feather out 0’ 
place on you. You are finer’n a piece o’ red satin. 
An’ you got that way o’ swingin’ an’ dancin’ an’ 
high-steppin’ right out in God A’mighty’s big 
woods, a teeterin’ in the wind, an’ a dartin’ ’crost 

AQ 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


the water. Cage never touched you! But you are 
somebody’s pet jest the same. An’ I look like the 
man, an’ you are tryin’ to tell me so, by gum!” 

Leaning toward Abram, the Cardinal turned 
his head from side to side, and peered, “chipped”, 
and waited for an answering “Chip” from a little 
golden-haired child, but there was no way for 
the man to know that. 

“Tt’s jest as sure as fate,” he said. You think 
you know me, an’ you are tryin’ to tell me somethin’. 
Wish to land I knowed what you want! Are you 
tryin’ to tell me ‘Howdy’? Well, I don’t *low no- 
body to be politer ’an I am, so far as I know.” 

Abram lifted his old hat, and the raindrops glis- 
tened on his white hair. He squared his shoulders 
and stood very erect. 

“Howdy, Mr. Redbird! How d’ye find yerself 
this evenin’? I don’t jest riccolict ever seein’ you 
before, but I'll never meet you agin ’thout knowin’ 
you. When d’you arrive? Come through by the 
special midnight flyer, did you? Well, you never 
was more welcome any place in your life. Id give 

43 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


a right smart sum this minnit if you’d say you came 
to settle on this river bank. How do you like it? 
To my mind it’s jest as near Paradise as you'll 
strike on earth. 

“Old Wabash is a twister for curvin’ and windin’ 
round, an’ it’s limestone bed half the way, an? the 
water’s as pretty an’ clear as in Maria’s spring- 
house. ‘An’ as for trimmin’, why say, Mr. Red- 
bird, I'll jest leave it to you if she ain’t all trimmed 
up like a woman’s spring bunnit. Look at the 
grass a-creepin’ right down till it’s a trailin’ in the 
water! Did you ever see jest quite such fine fringy 
willers? An’ you wait a little, an’ the flowerin’ 
mallows ’at grows long the shinin’ old river are fine 
as garden hollyhocks. Maria says ’at they’d be 
purtier ’an hers if they were only double; but, lord, 
Mr. Redbird, they are! See em once on the bank, 
an’ agin in the water! ‘An’ back a little an’ there’s 
jest thickets of papaw, an’ thorns, an’ wild grape- 
vines, an’ crab, an’ red an’ black haw, an’ dogwood, 
an’ sumac, an’ spicebush, an’ trees! Lord! Mr. 
Redbird, the sycamores, an’ maples, an’ tulip, an’ 

44, : 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


ash, an’ elm trees are so bustin’ fine “long the old 
Wabash they put ’em into poetry books an’ sing 
songs about *em. What do you think o’ that? Jest 
back o’ you a little there’s a sycamore split into 
five trunks, any one o’ them a famous big tree, tops 
up ’mong the clouds, an’ roots diggin’? under the 
old river; an’ over a little farther ’s a maple ’at’s 
eight big trees in one. Most anything you can 
name, you can find it ’long this ole Wabash, if you 
only know where to hunt for it. 

“They’s mighty few white men takes the trouble 
to look, but the Indians used to know. They’d come 
canoein’ an’ fishin’ down the river an’? camp under 
these very trees, an’ Ma ’ud git so mad at the old 
squaws. Settlers wasn’t so thick then, an’ you had 
to be mighty careful not to rile ’em, an’ they’d come 
a-trapesin’ with their wild berries. Woods full 0’ 
berries! ‘Anybody could get ’em by the bushel for 
the pickin’, an’ we hadn’t got on to raisin’ much 
wheat, an’ had to carry it on horses over into Ohio 
to get it milled. Took Pa five days to make the 
trip; an’ then the blame old squaws ’ud come, an’ 


45 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


Ma ’ud be compelled to hand over to ’em her big 
white loaves. Jest about set her plumb crazy. Used 
to get up in the night, an’ fix her yeast, an’ bake, an’ 
let the oven cool, an’ hide the bread out in the 
wheat bin, an’ get the smell of it all out o’ the house 
by good daylight, so’s ’at she could say there wasn’t 
a loaf in the cabin. Oh! if it’s good pickin’ you’re 
after, they’s berries for all creation ‘long the river 
yet; an’ jest wait a few days till old April gets done 
showerin’ an’ I plow this corn field!’ 

Abram set a foot on the third rail and leaned his 
elbows on the top. The Cardinal chipped delight- 
edly and hopped and tilted closer. 

“T hadn’t jest *lowed all winter I’d tackle this 
field again. Ive turned it every spring for forty 
year. Bought it when I was a young fellow, jest 
married to Maria. Shouldered a big debt on it; 
but I always loved these slopin’ fields, an’ my 
share of this old Wabash hasn’t been for sale nor 
tradin’ any time this past forty year. I’ve hung 
on to it like grim death, for it’s jest that much 0’ 
Paradise I’m plumb sure of. First time I plowed 

46 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


this field, Mr. Redbird, I only hit the high places. 
Jest married Maria, an’ I didn’t touch earth any 
too frequent all that summer. I’ve plowed it every 
year since, an’ I’ve been ’lowin’ all this winter, when 
the rheumatiz was gittin’ in its work, ’at I’d give it 
up this spring an’ turn it to medder; but I don’t 
know. Once I got started, b’lieve I could go it all 
right an’ not feel it so much, if you’d stay to cheer 
me up a little an’ post me on the weather. Hate the 
doggondest to own I’m worsted, an’ if you say it’s 
stay, b’lieve P’ll try it. Very sight o’ you kinder 
warms the cockles 0’ my heart all up, an’ every skip 
you take sets me a-wantin’ to be jumpin’ too. 
‘‘What on earth are you lookin’ for? Man! I 
b’lieve it’s grub! Somebody’s been feedin’ you! An’ 
you want me to keep it up? Well, you struck it all 
right, Mr. Redbird. Feed you? You bet I will! 
You needn’t even ’rastle for grubs if you don’t want 
to. Like as not you’re feelin’ hungry right now, 
pickin’ bein’ so slim these airly days. Land’s sake! 
I hope you don’t feel you’ve come too soon. I'll 
fetch you everything on the place it’s likely a red- 
4/ 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


bird ever teched, airly in the mornin’ if you’ll say 
you’ll stay an’ wave your torch ’long my river bank 
this summer. I haven’t a scrap about me now. Yes, 
I have too! MHere’s a handful o’ corn I was takin’ 
to the banty rooster; but shucks! he’s fat as a 
young shoat now. Corn’s a leetle big an’ hard for 
you. Mebby I can split it up a mite.” 

Abram took out his jack-knife, and dotting a row 
of grains along the top rail, he split and shaved 
them down as fine as possible; and as he reached 
one end of the rail, the Cardinal, with a spasmodic 
“Chip !”? dashed down and snatched a particle from 
the other, and flashed back to the bush, tested, ap- 
proved, and chipped his thanks. 


“Pshaw! now,” 


said Abram, staring wide-eyed. 
“Don’t that beat you? So you really are a pet? 
Best kind of a pet in the whole world, too! Makin’ 
everybody ’at sees you happy, an’ havin’ some 
chance to be happy yourself. An’ I look like your 
friend? Well! Well! I’m monstrous willin’ to adopt 
you if you'll take me; an’, as for feedin’, from to- 
morrow on I'll find time to set your little table ’long 


48 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


this same rail every day. I s’pose Maria *ull say 
’at ’m gone plumb crazy ; but, for that matter, if I 
ever get her down to see you jest once, the trick’s 
done with her, too, for you’re the prettiest thing 
God ever made in the shape of a bird, ’at I ever saw. 
Look at that topknot a wavin’ in the wind! Maybe 
praise to the face is open disgrace; but I'll take 
your share an’ mine, too, an’ tell you right here an’ 
now ’at you’re the blamedest prettiest thing ’at I 
ever saw. 

“But, Lord! You ortn’t be so careless! Don’t 
you know you ain’t nothin’ but jest a target? Why 
don’t you keep out o’ sight a little? You come a- 
shinneyin’ up to nine out o’ ten men ’long the river 
like this, an’ your purty, coaxin’, palaverin’ way 
won’t save a feather on you. You'll get the little 
red heart shot plumb outen your little red body, an’ 
that’s what you’ll get. It’s a dratted shame! An’ 
there’s law to protect you, too. They’s a good big 
fine for killin’ such as you, but nobody seems to 
push it. Every fool wants to test his aim, an’ you’re 
the brightest thing on the river bank for a mark. 

49 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


“Well, if you'll stay right where you are, it ’ull 
be a sorry day for any cuss’ at teches you; ’at Ill 
promise you, Mr. Redbird. This land’s mine, an’ 
if you locate on it, you’re mine till time to go back 
to that other old fellow ’at looks like me. Wonder if 
he’s any willinger to feed you an’ stand up for you 
’an I am?” 

“Here! Here! Here!’ whistled the Cardinal. 

“Well, I’m mighty glad if you’re sayin’ you'll 
stay! Guess it will be all right if you don’t meet 
some o’? them Limberlost hens an’ tole off to the 
swamp. Lord! the Limberlost ain’t to be compared 
with the river, Mr. Redbird. You’re foolish if you 
go! Talkin’ ’bout goin’, I must be goin’ myself, 
or Maria will be comin’ down the line fence with the 
lantern; an’, come to think of it, I’m a little moist, 
not to say downright damp. But then you 
warned me, didn’t you, old fellow? Well, I told 
Maria seein’ you ’ud be like meetin’ folks, an’ it has 
been. Good deal more’n I counted on, an’ I’ve 
talked more’n I have in a whole year. Hardly think 

50 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


now ’at I’ve the reputation o’ bein’ a mighty quiet 
fellow, would you?” 

Abram straightened and touched his hat brim in 
a trim half military salute. “Well, good-by, Mr. 
Redbird. Never had more pleasure meetin’ any- 
body in my life ’cept first time I met Maria. You 
think about the plowin’, an’, if you say. ‘stay’, it’s 
a go! Good-by; an’ do be a little more careful o” 
yourself. See you in the mornin’, right after 
breakfast, no count taken o’ the weather.”’ 

“Wet year! Wet year!” called the Cardinal 
after his retreating figure. 

Abram turned and gravely saluted the second 
time. The Cardinal went to the top rail and feasted 
on the sweet grains of corn until his craw was full, 
and then nestled in the sumac and went to sleep. 
Early next morning he was abroad and in fine toilet, 
and with a full voice from the top of the sumac 
greeted the day—‘‘Wet year! Wet year!” 

Far down the river echoed his voice until it so 
closely resembled some member of his family reply- 
ing that he followed, searching the banks mile after 

51 


LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


mile on either side, until finally he heard voices of 
his kind. He located them, but it was only several 
staid old couples, a long time mated, and busy with 
their nest-building. The Cardinal returned to the 
sumac, feeling a degree lonelier than ever. 

He decided to prospect in the opposite direction, 
and taking wing, he started up the river. Follow- 
ing the channel, he winged his flight for miles over 
the cool sparkling water, between the tangle of 
foliage bordering the banks. When he came to the 
long cumbrous structures of wood with which men 
had bridged the river, where the shuffling feet of 
tired farm horses raised clouds of dust and set the 
echoes rolling with their thunderous hoof beats, he 
was afraid; and rising high, he sailed over them in 
short broken curves of flight. But where giant 
maple and ash, leaning, locked branches across the 
channel in one of old Mother Nature’s bridges for 
the squirrels, he knew no fear, and dipped so low 
beneath them that his image trailed a wavering : 
shadow on the silver path he followed. | 

He rounded curve after curve, and frequently 

52 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


stopping on a conspicuous perch, flung a ringing 
challenge in the face of the morning. With every 
mile the way he followed grew more beautiful. The 
river bed was limestone, and the swiftly flowing 
water, clear and limpid. The banks were precipi- 
tate in some places, gently sloping in others, and 
always crowded with a tangle of foliage. 

At an abrupt curve in the river he mounted to the 
summit of a big ash and made boastful prophecy, 
“Wet year! Wet year!” and on all sides there 
sprang up the voices of his kind. Startled, the Car- 
dinal took wing. He followed the river in a 
circling flight until he remembered that here might 
be the opportunity to win the coveted river mate, 
and winging slower to select the highest branch 
on which to display his charms, he discovered that 
he was only a few yards from the ash from which 
he had made his prediction. The Cardinal flew over 
the narrow neck and sent another call, then without 
awaiting a reply, again he flashed up the river and 
circled Horseshoe Bend. When he came to the 
same ash for the third time, he understood. 


53 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


The river circled in one great curve. The Cardi- 
nal mounted to the tip-top limb of the ash and 
looked around him. ‘There was never a fairer sight 
for the eye of man or bird. The mist and shimmer 
of early spring were in the air. The Wabash 
rounded Horseshoe Bend in a silver circle, rimmed 
by a tangle of foliage bordering both its banks; 
and inside lay a low open space covered with way- 
ing marsh grass and the blue bloom of sweet cala- 
mus. Scattered around were mighty trees, but con- 
spicuous above any, in the very center, was a giant 
sycamore, split at its base into three large trees, 
whose waving branches seemed to sweep the face of 
heaven, and whose roots, like miserly fingers, 
clutched deep into the black muck of Rainbow 
Bottom. | 

It was in this lovely spot that the rainbow at last 
materialized, and at its base, free to all humanity 
who cared to seek, the Great Alchemist had left His 
rarest treasures—the gold of sunshine, diamond 
water-drops, emerald foliage, and sapphire sky. 
For good measure, there were added seeds, berries, 

54 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


and insects for the birds; and wild flowers, fruit, 
and nuts for the children. Above all, the sycamore 
waved its majestic head. 

It made a throne that seemed suitable for the son 
of the king; and mounting to its topmost branch, 
for miles the river carried his challenge: ‘‘Ho, car- 
dinals! Look this way! Behold me! Have you 
seen any other of so great size? Have you any to 
equal my grace? Whocan whistle so loud, so clear, 
so compelling a note? Who will fly to me for pro- 
tection? Who will come and be my mate?” 

He flared his crest high, swelled his throat with 
rolling notes, and appeared so big and brilliant that 
among the many cardinals that had gathered to 
hear, there was not one to compare with him. 

Black envy filled their hearts. Who was this 
flaming dashing stranger, flaunting himself in the 
faces of their females? There were many unmated 
cardinals in Rainbow Bottom, and many jealous 
males. A second time the Cardinal, rocking and 
flashing, proclaimed himself; and there was a note 
of feminine approval so strong that he caught it. 

55 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


Tilting on a twig, his crest flared to full height, his 
throat swelled to bursting, his heart too big for his 
body, the Cardinal shouted his challenge for the 
third time; when clear and sharp arose a cry in 
answer, “‘Here! Here! Here!” It came from a 
female that had accepted the caresses of the bright- 
est cardinal in Rainbow Bottom only the day be- 
fore, and had spent the morning carrying twigs to 
a thicket of red haws. 

The Cardinal, with a royal flourish, sprang in air 
to seek her; but her outraged mate was ahead of 
him, and with a scream she fled, leaving a tuft of 
feathers in her mate’s beak. In turn the Cardinal 
struck him like a flashing rocket, and then red war 
waged in Rainbow Bottom. The females scattered 
for cover with all their might. The Cardinal 
worked in a kiss on one poor little bird, too fright- 
ened to escape him; then the males closed in, and 
serious business began. 'The Cardinal would have 
enjoyed a fight vastly with two or three opponents ; 
but a half-dozen made discretion better than valor. 
He darted among them, scattering them right and 

56 | 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


left, and made for the sycamore. With all his re- 
maining breath, he insolently repeated his chal- 
lenge; and then headed down stream for the sumac 
with what grace he could command. 

There was an hour of angry recrimination before 
sweet peace brooded again in Rainbow Bottom. 
The newly-mated pair finally made up; the females 
speedily resumed their coquetting, and forgot the 
captivating stranger—all save the poor little one 
that had been kissed by accident. She never had 
been kissed before, and never had expected that she 
would be, for she was a creature of many misfor- 
tunes of every nature. 

She had been hatched from a fifth egg to begin 
with; and every one knows the disadvantage of be- 
ginning life with four sturdy older birds on top of 
one. It was a meager egg, and a feeble baby that 
pipped its shell. The remainder of the family stood 
and took nearly all the food so that she almost 
starved in the nest, and she never really knew the 
luxury of a hearty meal until the two elders had 
flown. That lasted only a few days; for the others 

57 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 
went then, and their parents followed them so far 
afield that the poor little soul, clamormg alone in 
the nest, almost perished. Hunger-driven, she 
climbed to the edge and exercised her wings until 
she managed some sort of flight to a neighboring 
bush. She missed the twig and fell to the ground, 
where she lay cold and shivering. 

She cried pitifully, and was almost dead when a 
brown-faced, barefoot boy, with a fishing-pole on 
his shoulder, passed and heard her. 

‘Poor little thing, you are almost dead,” he said. 
“I know what T’ll do with you. Dll take you over 
and set you in the bushes where I heard those other 
redbirds, and then your mammy will feed you.” 

The boy turned back and carefully set her on a 
limb close to one of her brothers, and there she got 
just enough food to keep her alive. 

So her troubles continued. Once a squirrel 
chased her, and she saved herself by crowding into 
a hole so small her pursuer could not follow. The 


only reason she escaped a big blue racer when she 
58 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


went to take her first bath, was that a hawk had his 
eye on the snake and snapped it up at just the 
proper moment to save the poor, quivering little 
bird. She was left so badly frightened that she 
could not move for a long time. 

All the tribulations of birdland fell to her lot. 
She was so frail and weak she lost her family in mi- 
gration, and followed with some strangers that were 
none too kind. Life in the South had been full of 
trouble. Once a bullet grazed her so closely she 
lost two of her wing quills, and that made her more 
timid than ever. Coming North, she had given out 
again and finally had wandered into Rainbow Bot- 
tom, lost and alone. 

She was such a shy, fearsome little body, the 
females all flouted her; and the males never seemed 
to notice that there was material in her for a very 
fine mate. Every other female cardinal m Rainbow 
Bottom had several males courting her, but this 
poor, frightened, lonely one had never a suitor ; and 
she needed love so badly! No one ever before had 


59 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


sought her; now she had been kissed by this mag- 
nificent stranger ! 

Of course, she knew it really was not her kiss. 
He had intended it for the bold creature that had 
answered his challenge, but since it came to her, it 
was hers, in a way, after all. She hid in the under- 
brush for the remainder of the day, and was never 
so frightened in all her life. She brooded over it 
constantly, and morning found her at the down 
curve of the horseshoe, straining her ears for the 
rarest note she ever had heard. All day she hid 
and waited, and the following days were filled with 
longing, but he never came again. 

So one morning, possessed with courage she did 
not understand, and filled with longing that drove 
her against her will, she started down the river. For 
miles she sneaked through the underbrush, and 
watched and listened; until at last night came, and 
she returned to Rainbow Bottom. 'The next morn- 
ing she set out early and flew to the spot from which 
she had turned back the night before. From there 
she glided through the bushes and underbrush, 

60 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


trembling and quaking, yet pushing stoutly on- 
ward, straining her ears for some note of the bril- 
liant stranger’s. 

It was mid-forenoon when she reached the region 
of the sumac, and as she hopped warily along, only 
a short distance from her, full and splendid, there 
burst the voice of the singer for whom she was 
searching. She sprang into air, and fled a mile be- 
fore she realized that she was flying. ‘Then she 
stopped and listened, and rolling with the river, she 
heard those bold true tones. Close to earth, she 
went back again, to see if, unobserved, she could 
find a spot where she might watch the stranger that 
had kissed her. When at last she reached a place 
where she could see him plainly, his beauty was so 
bewildering, and his song so enticing that she grad- 
ually hopped closer and closer without knowing she 
was moving. 

High in the sumac the Cardinal had sung until 
his throat was parched, and the fountain of hope 
was almost dry. There was nothing save defeat 
from overwhelming numbers in Rainbow Bottom. 


61 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


He had paraded, and made all the music he ever had 
been taught, and improvised much more. Yet no 
one had come to seek him. Was it of necessity to 
be the Limberlost then? 'This one day more he 
would retain his dignity and his location. He tip- 
ped, tilted, and flirted. He whistled, and sang, and 
trilled. Over the lowland and up and down the shin- 
ing river, ringing in every change he could invent, 
he sent for the last time his prophetic message, 
“Wet year! Wet year!” 


CHAPTER III 


“Come here! Come here!” entreated the Cardinal 


HE felt that his music was not reaching his stand- 
ard as he burst into this new song. He was almost 
discouraged. No way seemed open to him but flight 
to the Limberlost, and he so disdained the swamp 
that love-making would lose something of its great- 
est charm if he were driven there for a mate. The 
time seemed ripe for stringent measures, and the 
Cardinal was ready to take them; but how could he 
stringently urge a little mate that would not come 
for his imploring invitations? He listlessly pecked 
at the berries and flung abroad an inquiring 
“Chip!” With just an atom of hope, he frequently 
mounted to his choir-loft and issued an order that 
savored far more of a plea, “Come here! Come 


here!” and then, leaning, he listened intently to the 
63 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


voice of the river, lest he fail to catch the faintest 
responsive “Chook!”’ it might bear. 

He could hear the sniffling of carp wallowing be- 
side the bank. <A big pickerel slashed around, 
breakfasting on minnows. Opposite the sumac, the 
black bass, with gamy spring, snapped up, before 
it struck the water, every luckless, honey-laden in- 
sect that fell from the feast of sweets in a blossom- 
whitened wild crab. ‘The sharp bark of the red 
squirrel and the low of cattle, lazily chewing their 
cuds among the willows, came to him. The ham- 
mering of a woodpecker on a dead sycamore, a little 
above him, rolled to his straining ears like a drum 
beat. 

The Cardinal hated the woodpecker more than he 
disliked the dove. It was only foolishly effusive, 
but the woodpecker was a veritable Bluebeard. The 
Cardinal longed to pull the feathers from his back 
until it was as red as his head, for the woodpecker 
had dressed his suit in finest style, and with dulcet 
tones and melting tenderness had gone a-courting. 
Sweet as the dove’s had been his wooing, and one 


64 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


more pang the lonely Cardinal had suffered at be- 
ing forced to witness his felicity; yet scarcely had 
his plump, amiable little mate consented to his 
caresses and approved the sycamore, before he 
turned on her, pecked her severely, and pulled a 
tuft of plumage from her breast. ‘There was not 
the least excuse for this tyrannical action; and the 
sight filled the Cardinal with rage. He fully ex- 
pected to see Madam Woodpecker divorce herself 
and flee her new home, and he most earnestly hoped 
that she would; but she did no such thing. She 
meekly flattened her feathers, hurried work in a 
lively manner, and tried in every way to anticipate 
and avert her mate’s displeasure. Under this treat- 
ment he grew more abusive, and now Madam Wood- 
pecker dodged every time she came within his reach. 
It made the Cardinal feel so vengeful that he longed 
to go up and drum the sycamore with the woodpeck- 
er’s head until he taught him how to treat his mate 
properly. 

There was plenty of lark music rolling with the 
river, and that morning brought the first liquid 

65 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


golden notes of the orioles. They had arrived at 
dawn, and were overjoyed with their home-coming, 
for they were darting from bank to bank singing 
exquisitely on wing. ‘There seemed no end to the 
bird voices that floated with the river, and yet there 
was no beginning to the one voice for which the 
Cardinal waited with passionate longing. 

The oriole’s singing was so inspiring that it 
tempted the Cardinal to another effort, and perch- 
ing where he gleamed crimson and black against the 
April sky, he tested his voice, and when sure of his 
tones, he entreatingly called, ““Come here! Come 
here !”” 

Just then he saw her! She came daintily over 
the earth, soft as down before the wind, a rosy flush 
suffusing her plumage, a coral beak, her very feet 
pink—the shyest, most timid little thing alive. Her 
bright eyes were popping with fear, and down there 
among the ferns, anemones and last year’s dried 
leaves, she tilted her sleek crested head and peered 
at him with frightened wonder. 

It was for this the Cardinal had waited, hoped, 

66 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


and planned for many days. He had rehearsed 
what he conceived to be every point of the situation, 
and yet he was not prepared for the thing that sud- 
denly happened to him. He had expected to reject 
many applicants before he selected one to match his 
charms; but instantly this shy little creature, slip- 
ping along near earth, taking a surreptitious peep 
at him, made him feel a very small bird, and he cer- 
tainly never before had felt small. The crushing 
possibility that somewhere there might be a cardinal 
that was larger, brighter, and a finer musician than 
he, staggered him; and worst of all, his voice broke 
suddenly. 

Half screened by the flowers, she seemed so lit- 
tle, so shy, so delightfully sweet. He “chipped” 
carefully once or twice to steady himself and clear 
his throat, for unaccountably it had grown dry and 
husky; and then he tenderly tried again. ‘Come 
here! Come here!” implored the Cardinal. He for- 
got all about his dignity. He knew that his voice 
was trembling with eagerness and hoarse with fear. 
He was afraid to attempt approaching her, but he 

67 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


leaned toward her, begging and pleading. He 
teased and insisted, and he did not care a particle if 
he did. It suddenly seemed an honor to coax her. 
He rocked on the limb. He side-stepped and hop- 
ped and gyrated gracefully. He fluffed and flirted 
and showed himself to every advantage. It never 
occurred to him that the dove and the woodpecker 
might be watching, though he would not have cared 
in the least if they had been; and as for any other 
cardinal, he would have attacked the combined 
forces of the Limberlost and Rainbow Bottom. 

He sang and sang. Every impulse of passion 
in his big, crimson, palpitating body was thrown 
into those notes ; but she only turned her head from 
side to side, peering at him, seeming sufficiently 
frightened to flee at a breath, and answered not even 
the faintest little ““Chook!” of encouragement. 

The Cardinal rested a second before he tried 
again. 'That steadied him and gave him better 
command of himself. He could tell that his notes 
were clearing and growing sweeter. He was im- 
proving. Perhaps she was interested. There was 


68 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


| 
| 


some encouragement in the fact that she was still 
there. The Cardinal felt that his time had come. 

“Come here! Come here!’ He was on his mettle 
now. Surely no cardinal could sing fuller, clearer, 
sweeter notes! He began at the very first, and rol- 
licked through a story of adventure, coloring it 
with every wild, dashing, catchy note he could im- 
provise. He followed that with a rippling song of 
the joy and fulness of spring, in notes as light and 
airy as the wind-blown soul of melody, and with 
swaying body kept time to his rhythmic measures. 
Then he glided into a song of love, and tenderly, 
pleadingly, passionately, told the story as only a 
courting bird can tell it. Then he sang a song of 
ravishment; a song quavering with fear and the 
pain tugging at his heart. He almost had run the 
gamut, and she really appeared far more as if she 
intended to flee than to come to him. He was afraid 
to take even one timid little hop toward her. 

In a fit of desperation the Cardinal burst into the 
passion song. He arose to his full height, leaned 
toward her with outspread quivering wings, and 


69 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


Ni 
beet flared to the utmost, and rocking from side to 
side in the intensity of his fervor, he poured out a 
perfect torrent of palpitant song. His cardinal 
body swayed to the rolling flood of his ecstatic 
tones, until he appeared like a flaming pulsing note 
of materialized music, as he entreated, coaxed, com- 
manded, and plead. From sheer exhaustion, he 
threw up his head to round off the last note he could 
utter, and breathlessly glancing down to see if she 
were coming, caught sight of a faint streak of gray 
in the distance. He had planned so to subdue the 
little female he courted that she would come to him; 
he was in hot pursuit a half day’s journey away 
before he remembered it. 

No other cardinal ever endured such a chase as 
she led him in the following days. Through fear 
and timidity she had kept most of her life in the un- 
derbrush. The Cardinal was a bird of the open 
fields and tree-tops. He loved to rock with the 
wind, and speed arrow-like in great plunges of 
flight. This darting and twisting over logs, among 
leaves, and through tangled thickets, tired, tried, 

70 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


and exasperated him more than hundreds of miles 
of open flight. Sometimes he drove her from cover, 
and then she wildly dashed up-hill and down-dale, 
seeking another thicket ; but wherever she went, the 
Cardinal was only a breath behind her, and with 
every passing mile his passion for her grew. 

There was no time to eat, bathe, or sing; only 
mile after mile of unceasing pursuit. It seemed 
that the little creature could not stop if she would, 
and as for the Cardinal, he was in that chase to re- 
main until his last heart-beat. It was a question 
how the frightened bird kept in advance. She was 
visibly the worse for this ardent courtship. ‘Two 
tail feathers were gone, and there was a broken one 
beating from her wing. Once she had flown too low, 
striking her head against a rail until a drop of 
blood came, and she cried pitifully. Several times 
the Cardinal had cornered her, and tried to hold her 
by a bunch of feathers, and compel her by force to 
listen to reason; but she only broke from his hold 
and dashed away a stricken thing, leaving him half 
dead with longing and remorse. 


71 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


But no matter how baffled she grew, or where she 
fled in her headlong flight, the one thing she always 
remembered, was not to lead the Cardinal into the 
wrath that awaited him in Rainbow Bottom. Pant- 
ing for breath, quivering with fear, longing for 
well-concealed retreats, worn and half blinded by 
the disasters of flight through strange country, the 
tired bird beat her aimless way ; but she would have 
been torn to pieces before she would have led her 
magnificent pursuer into the wrath of his enemies. 

Poor little feathered creature! She had been 
fleeing some kind of danger all her life. She could 
not realize that love and protection had come in this 
splendid guise, and she fled on and on. 

Once the Cardinal, aching with passion and love, 
fell behind that she might rest, and before he real- 
ized that another bird was close, an impudent 
big relative of his, straying from the Limberlost, 
entered the race and pursued her so hotly, that with 
a note of utter panic, she wheeled and darted back 
to the Cardinal for protection. When to the rush 
of rage that possessed him at the sight of a rival, 

12 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


was added the knowledge that she was seeking him 
in her extremity, such a mighty wave of anger 
swept the Cardinal that he appeared twice his real 
size. Like a flaming brand of vengeance he struck 
that Limberlost upstart, and sent him rolling to 
earth, a mass,of battered feathers. With beak and 
claw he made his attack, and when he so utterly had 
demolished his rival that he had hopped away 
trembling, with disheveled plumage stained with his 
own blood, the Cardinal remembered his little love 
and hastened back, confidently hoping for his re- 
ward. 

She was so securely hidden, that although he 
went searching, calling, pleading, he found no trace 
of her the remainder of that day. The Cardinal 
almost went distracted; and his tender imploring 
cries would have moved any except a panic-stricken 
bird. He did not even know in what direction to 
pursue her. Night closed down, and found him in 
a fever of love-sick fear, but it brought rest and 
wisdom. She could not have gone very far. She 
was too worn. He would not proclaim his presence. 


73 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


Soon she would suffer past enduring for food and 
water. 

He hid in the willows close where he had lost her, 
and waited with what patience he could; and it was 
a wise plan. Shortly after dawn, moving stilly as 
the break of day, trembling with fear, she came 
slipping to the river for a drink. It was almost 
brutal cruelty, but her fear must be overcome some- 
way; and with a cry of triumph the Cardinal, in a 
plunge of flight, was beside her. She gave him one 
stricken look, and dashed away. 'The chase began 
once more and continued until she was visibly 
breaking. 

There was no room for a rival that morning. The 
Cardinal flew abreast of her and gave her a caress 
or attempted a kiss whenever he found the slightest 
chance. She was almost worn out, her flights were 
wavering and growing shorter. The Cardinal did 
his utmost. If she paused to rest, he crept close as 
he dared, and piteously begged “Come here! Come 
here!’ 

When she took wing, he so dexterously inter- 

rc: 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


cepted her course that several times she found 
refuge in his sumac without realizing where she was. 
When she did that, he perched just as closely as he 
dared; and while they both rested, he sang to her a 
soft little whispered love song, deep in his throat; 
and with every note, he gently edged nearer. She 
turned her head from him, and although she was 
panting for breath and palpitant with fear, the 
Cardinal knew that he dared not go closer, or she 
would dash away like the wild thing she was. The 
next time she took wing, she found him so persist- 
ently in her course that she turned sharply and fled 
panting to the sumac. When this had happened so 
often that she seemed to recognize the sumac as a 
place of refuge, the Cardinal slipped aside and 
spent all his remaining breath in an exultant whistle 
of triumph, for now he was beginning to see his 
way. He dashed into mid-air, and with a gyration 
that would have done credit to a flycatcher, he 
snapped up a gadfly. 

With a tender “Chip!” from branch to branch, 
slowly, cautiously, he came with it. Because he was 


75 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


half starved himself, he knew that she must be al- 
most famished. Holding it where she could see, he 
hopped toward her, eagerly, carefully, the gadfly in 
his beak, his heart in his mouth. He stretched his 
neck and legs to the limit as he reached the fly to- 
ward her. What matter that she took it with 
a snap, and plunged a quarter of a mile before eat- 
ing it? She had taken food from him! That was 
the beginning. Cautiously he impelled her toward 
the sumac, and with untirmg patience kept her 
there the remainder of the day. He carried her 
every choice morsel he could find in the immediate 
vicinity of the sumac, and occasionally she took a 
bit from his beak, though oftenest he was compelled 
to lay it on a limb beside her. At dusk she repeat- 
edly dashed toward the underbrush; but the Cardi- 
nal, with endless patience and tenderness, maneu- 
vered her to the sumac, until she gave up, and un- 
der the shelter of a neighboring grape-vine, perched 
on a limb that was the Cardinal’s own chosen rest- 
ing-place, tucked her tired head beneath her wing, 
and went to rest. When she was soundly sleeping, 


76 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


the Cardinal crept as closely as he dared, and with 
one eye on his little gray love, and the other roving 
for any possible danger, he spent a night of watch- 
ing. 

He was almost worn out; but this was infinitely 
better than the previous night, at any rate, for now 
he not only knew where she was, but she was fast 
asleep in his own favorite place. Huddled on the 
limb, the Cardinal gloated over her. He found her 
beauty perfect. To be sure, she was disheveled ; 
but she could make her toilet. There were a few 
feathers gone; but they would grow speedily. She 
made a heart-satisfying picture, on which the Car- 
dinal feasted his love-sick soul, by the light of every 
straying moonbeam that slid around the edges of 
the grape leaves. 

Wave after wave of tender passion shook him. 
In his throat half the night he kept softly calling to 
her: ‘Come here! Come here!’ 

Next morning, when the robins announced day 
beside the shining river, she awoke with a start ; but 
before she could decide in which direction to fly, she 

77 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


discovered a nice fresh grub laid on the limb close 
to her, and very sensibly remained for breakfast. 
Then the Cardinal went to the river and bathed. He 
made such delightful play of it, and the splash of 
the water sounded so refreshing to the tired drag- 
gled bird, that she could not resist venturing for a 
few dips. When she was wet she could not fly well, 
and he improved the opportunity to pull her broken 
quills, help her dress herself, and bestow a few ex- 
tra caresses. He guided her to his favorite place 
for a sun bath; and followed the farmer’s plow in 
the corn field until he found a big sweet beetle. He 
snapped off its head, peeled the stiff wing shields, 
and daintily offered it to her. He was so delighted 
when she took it from his beak, and remained in the 
sumac to eat it, that he established himself on an ad- 
joining thorn-bush, where the snowy blossoms of a 
wild morning-glory made a fine background for his 
scarlet coat. He sang the old pleading song as he 
never had sung it before, for now there was a tinge 
of hope battling with the fear in his heart. 

Over and over he sang, rounding, fulling, swell- 


78 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


ing every note, leaning toward her in coaxing ten- 
derness, flashing his brilliant beauty as he swayed 
and rocked, for her approval; and all that he had 
suffered and all that he hoped for was in his song. 
Just when his heart was growing sick within him, 
his straining ear caught the faintest, most timid 
call a lover ever answered. Only one imploring, 
gentle “Chook!” from the sumac! His song broke 
in a suffocating burst of exultation. Cautiously he 
hopped from twig to twig toward her. With ten- 
der throaty murmurings he slowly edged nearer, 
and wonder of wonders! with tired eyes and quiver- 
ing wings, she reached him her beak for a kiss. 

At dinner that day, the farmer said to his wife: 

“Maria, if you want to hear the prettiest singin’, 
an’ see the cutest sight you ever saw, jest come down 
along the line fence an’ watch the antics o’ that red- 
bird we been hearin’.” 

“T don’t know as redbirds are so scarce ’at I’ve 
any call to wade through slush a half-mile to see 
one,” answered Maria. 


“Footin’s pretty good along the line fence,” said 
719 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


Abram, “an’ you never saw a redbird like this fel- 
low. He’s as big as any two common ones. He’s 
so red every bush he lights on looks like it was afire. 
It’s past all question, he’s been somebody’s pet, an’ 
he’s taken me for the man. I can get in six feet of 
him easy. He’s the finest bird I ever set eyes on; 
an’ as for singin’, he’s dropped the weather, an’ he’s 
askin’ folks to his housewarmin’ to-day. He’s been 
there alone for a week, an’ his singin’s been first- 
class ; but to-day he’s picked up a mate, an’ he’s as 
tickled as ever I was. I am really consarned for 
fear he’ll burst himself.” 

Maria sniffed. 

“Course, don’t come if you’re tired, honey,” said 
the farmer. “I thought maybe you’d enjoy it. 
He’s a-doin’ me a power o’ good. My joints are 
limbered up till I catch myself pretty near runnin’, 
on the up furrow, an’ then, down towards the fence, 
I go slow so’s to stay near him as long as I can.” 

Maria stared. ‘Abram Johnson, have you gone 
daft?” she demanded. 

Abram chuckled. ‘Not a mite dafter’n you'll 

80 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


be, honey, once you set eyes on the fellow. Better 
come, if youcan. You’re invited. He’s askin’ the 
whole endurin’ country to come.” 

Maria said nothing more; but she mentally de- 
cided she had no time to fool with a bird, when 
there was housekeeping and spring sewing to do. 
As she recalled Abram’s enthusiastic praise of the 
singer, and had a whiff of the odor-laden air as she 
passed from kitchen to spring-house, she was com- 
pelled to admit that it was a temptation to go; but 
she finished her noon work and resolutely sat down 
with her needle. She stitched industriously, her 
thread straightening with a quick nervous sweep, 
learned through years of experience; and if her eyes 
wandered riverward, and if she paused frequently 
with arrested hand and listened intently, she did not 
realize it, By two o’clock, a spirit of unrest that 
demanded recognition had taken possession of her. 
Setting her lips firmly, a scowl clouding her brow, 
she stitched on. By half past two her hands 
dropped in her lap, Abram’s new hickory shirt slid 
to the floor, and she hesitatingly arose and crossed 

81 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


the room to the closet, from which she took her over- 
shoes, and set them by the kitchen fire, to have them 
ready in case she wanted them. 

“Pshaw !’ she muttered, “I got this shirt to finish 
this afternoon. There’s butter an’ bakin’ in the 
mornin’, an’ Mary Jane Simms is comin’ for a visit 
in the afternoon.” 

She returned to the window and took up the shirt, 
sewing with unusual swiftness for the next half- 
hour ; but by three she dropped it, and opening the 
kitchen door, gazed toward the river. 

Every intoxicating delight of early spring was 
in the air. The breeze that fanned her cheek was 
laden with subtle perfume of pollen and the crisp 
fresh odor of unfolding leaves. Curling skyward, 
like a beckoning finger, went a spiral of violet and 
gray smoke from the log heap Abram was burning; 
and scattered over spaces of a mile were half a 
dozen others, telling a story of the activity of his 
neighbors. Like the low murmur of distant music 
came the beating wings of hundreds of her bees, 
rimming the water trough, insane with thirst. On 

82 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


the wood-pile the guinea cock clattered incessantly, 
“Phut rack! Phut rack!’ Across the dooryard 
came the old turkey-gobbler with fan tail and a 
rasping scrape of wing, evincing his delight in 
spring and mating time by a series of explosive 
snorts. On the barnyard gate the old shanghai was 
lustily challenging to mortal combat one of his kind 
three miles across country. From the river arose 
the strident scream of her blue gander jealously 
guarding his harem. In the poultry-yard the hens 
made a noisy cackling party, and the stable lot was 
filled with cattle bellowing for the freedom of the 
meadow pasture, as yet scarcely ready for grazing. 
It seemed to the little woman, hesitating in the door- 
way, as if all nature had entered into a conspiracy 
to lure her from her work, and just then, clear and 
imperious, arose the demand of the Cardinal, “(Come 
here! Come here!” 

Blank amazement filled her face. ‘As I’m a livin’ 
woman!” she gasped. ‘“He’s changed his song! 
That’s what Abram meant by me bein’ invited. He’s 
askin’ folks to see his mate. I’m goin’.” 


83 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


The dull red of excitement sprang into her 
cheeks. She hurried on her overshoes, and drew 
an old shawl over her head. She crossed the door- 
yard, followed the path through the orchard, and 
came to the lane. Below the barn she turned back 
and attempted to cross. The mud was deep and 
thick, and she lost an overshoe; but with the help of 
a stick she pried it out, and balancing on the other 
foot, replaced it. 

“Joke on me if I’d a-tumbled over in this mud,” 
she muttered. 

She entered the barn, and came out a minute 
later, carefully closing and buttoning the door, and 
recrossing the lane, started down the line fence to- 
ward the river. 

Half-way across the field Abram saw her coming. 
No need to recount how often he had looked in that 
direction during the afternoon. He slapped the 
lines on the old gray’s back and came tearing down 
the slope, his eyes flashing, his cheeks red, his hands 
firmly gripping the plow that rolled up a line of — 
black mold as he passed. 

84 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


Maria, staring at his flushed face and shining 
eyes, recognized that his whole being proclaimed 
an inward exultation. 

“Abram Johnson,” she solemnly demanded, 
“have you got the power?” 

“Yes,” cried Abram, pulling off his old felt hat, 
and gazing into the crown as if for inspiration. 
“You’ve said it, honey! I got the power! Got it 
of a little redbird! Power o’ spring! Power o’ 
song! Power o’ love! If that poor little red tar- 
get for some ornery cuss’s bullet can get all he’s 
getting out o’ life to-day, there’s no cause why a 
reasonin’ thinkin’? man shouldn’t realize some 0’ 
his blessings. You hit it, Maria; I got the power. 
It’s the power o’ God, but I learned how to lay hold 
of it from that little redbird. Come here, Maria!’ 

Abram wrapped the lines around the plow han- 
dle, and cautiously led his wife to the fence. He 
found a piece of thick bark for her to stand on, and 
placed her where she would be screened by a big 
oak. ‘Then he stood behind her and pointed out the 
sumac and the female bird. 

85 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


“Jest you keep still a minute, an’ you'll feel paid 
for comin’ all right, honey,” he whispered. 

“T don’t know as I ever saw a worse-lookin’ speci- 
men ’an she is,”’ answered Maria. 

“She looks first-class to him. There’s no kick 
comin’ on his part, I can tell you,” replied Abram. 
_ The bride hopped shyly through the sumac. She 
pecked at the dried berries, and frequently tried 
to improve her plumage, which certainly had been 
badly draggled; and there was a drop of blood 
dried at the base of her beak. She plainly showed 
the effects of her rough experience, and yet she was 
a most attractive bird; for the dimples in her plump 
body showed through the feathers, and instead of 
the usual wickedly black eyes of the cardinal fam- 
ily, hers were a soft tender brown lighted by a love- 
light there was no mistaking. She was a beautiful 
bird, and she was doing all in her power to make 
herself dainty again. Her movements clearly indi- 
cated how timid she was, and yet she remained in 
the sumac as if she feared to leave it; and fre- 
quently peered expectantly among the tree-tops. 

86 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


There was a burst of exultation down the river. 
The little bird gave her plumage a fluff, and 
watched anxiously. On came the Cardinal like a 
flaming rocket, calling to her on wing. He alighted 
beside her, dropped into her beak a morsel of food, 
gave her a kiss to aid digestion, caressingly ran his 
beak the length of her wing quills, and flew to the 
dogwood. Mrs. Cardinal enjoyed the meal. It 
struck her palate exactly right. She liked the kiss 
and caress, cared, in fact, for all that he did for 
her, and with the appreciation of his tenderness 
came repentance for the dreadful chase she had led 
him in her foolish fright, and an impulse to repay. 
She took a dainty hop toward the dogwood, and the 
invitation she sent him was exquisite. With a shrill 
whistle of exultant triumph the Cardinal answered 
at a headlong rush. 

The farmer’s grip tightened on his wife’s shoul- 
der, but Maria turned toward him with blazing, 
tear-filled eyes. ‘An’ you call yourself a decent 
man, Abram Johnson?” 


87, 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


“Decent ?”” quavered the astonished Abram. ‘De- 
cent? I believe I am.” 

“J believe you ain’t,” hotly retorted his wife. 
“You don’t know what decency is, if you go peekin’ 
at them. They ain’t birds! They’re more’n birds! 
They’re folks! Jest common human folks!’ 

“Maria,” plead Abram, “Maria, honey.” 

“TY am plumb ashamed o’ you,” broke in Maria. 
‘How d’you spose she’d feel if she knew there was 
a man here peekin’ at her? Ain’t she got a right 
to be lovin’ and tender? Ain’t she got a right 
to pay him best she knows? They’re jest common 
human bein’s, an’ I don’t know where you got priv- 
ilege to spy on a female when she’s doin’ the best 
she knows.” 

Maria broke from his grasp and started down 
the line fence. 

In a few strides Abram had her in his arms, his 
withered cheek with its springtime bloom pressed 
against her equally withered, tear-stained one. 

“Maria,” he whispered, waveringly, ‘Maria, 
honey, I wasn’t meanin’ any disrespect to the sex.” | 

88 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


Maria wiped her eyes on the corner of her shawl. 
“T don’t s’pose you was, Abram,” she admitted; 
“but you’re jest like all the rest o’ the men. You 
never think! Now you go on with your plowin’ an’ 
let that little female alone.” 

She unclasped his arms and turned homeward. 

“Honey,” called Abram softly, “since you 
brought ’em that pocketful 0’ wheat, you might as 
well let me have it.” 

“Landy!” exclaimed Maria, blushing; “I plumb 
forgot my wheat! I thought maybe, bein’ so early, 
pickin’ was scarce, an’ if you’d put out a little 
wheat an’ a few crumbs, they’d stay an’ nest in the 
sumac, as you’re so fond o’ them.” 

“Jest what I’m fairly prayin’ they’ll do, an’ I 
been carryin’ stuff an’ pettin’ him up best I knowed 
for a week,” said Abram, as he knelt, and cupped 
his shrunken hands, while Maria guided the wheat 
from her apron into them. “I’ll scatter it along 
the top rail, an’ they’ll be after it in fifteen min- 
utes. Thank you, Maria. ’T'was good o’ you to 
think of it.” 

89 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


Maria watched him steadily. How dear he was! 
How dear he always had been! How happy they 
were together! “Abram,” she questioned, hesi- 
tatingly, “is there anything else I could do for— 
for your birds?” 

They were creatures of habitual repression, and 
the inner glimpses they had taken of each other 
that day were surprises they scarcely knew how to © 
meet. Abram said nothing, because he could not. 
He slowly shook his head, and turned to the plow, 
his eyes misty. Maria started toward the line 
fence, but she paused repeatedly to listen; and it 
was no wonder, for all the redbirds from miles down 
the river had gathered around the sumac to see if 
there was a battle in birdland; but it was only the 
Cardinal, turning somersaults in the air, and 
screaming with bursting exuberance, “Come here! 


Come here !”’ 


CHAPTER IV 


“So dear! So dear!” crooned the Cardinal 


SHE had taken possession of the sumac. The lo- 
cation was her selection and he loudly applauded 
her choice. She placed the first twig, and after ex- 
amining it carefully, he spent the day carrying her 
others just as much like it as possible. If she used 
a dried grass blade, he carried grass blades until 
she began dropping them on the ground. If she 
worked in a bit of wild grape-vine bark, he peeled 
grape-vines until she would have no more. It 
never occurred to him that he was the largest 
cardinal in the woods, in those days, and he had 
forgotten that he wore a red coat. She was not a 
skilled architect. Her nest certainly was a loose 
ramshackle affair; but she had built it, and had 
allowed him to help her. It was hers; and he 
improvised a pean in its praise. Every morning 


91 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


he perched on the edge of the nest and gazed in 
songless wonder at each beautiful new egg; and 
whenever she came to brood she sat as if entranced, 
eying her treasures in an ecstasy of proud posses- 
sion. 

Then she nestled them against her warm breast, 
and turned adoring eyes toward the Cardinal. If 
he sang from the dogwood, she faced that way. If 
he rocked on the wild grape-vine, she turned in her 
nest. If he went to the corn field for grubs, she 
stood astride her eggs and peered down, watching 
his every movement with unconcealed anxiety. The 
Cardinal forgot to be vain of his beauty; she de- 
lighted in it every hour of the day. Shy and timid 
beyond belief she had been during her courtship; 
but she made reparation by being an incomparably 
generous and devoted mate..- 

And the Cardinal! He was astonished to find 
himself capable of so much and such varied feeling. 
It was not enough that he brooded while she went to 
bathe and exercise. ‘The daintiest of every morsel 
he found was carried to her. When she refused to 

92 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


swallow another particle, he perched on a twig close 
by the nest many times in a day; and with sleek 
feathers and lowered crest, gazed at her in silent 
worshipful adoration. 

Up and down the river bank he flamed and rioted. 
In the sumac he uttered not the faintest “Chip!” 
that might attract attention. He was so anxious 
to be inconspicuous that he appeared only half his 
real size. Always on leaving he gave her a tender 
little peck and ran his beak the length of her wing 
—a, characteristic caress that he delighted to be- 
stow on her. 

If he felt that he was disturbing her too often, he 
perched on the dogwood and sang for life, and love, 
and happiness. His music was in a minor key now. 
The high, exultant, ringing notes of passion were 
mellowed and subdued. He was improvising cradle 
songs and lullabies. He was tellmg her how he 
loved her, how he would fight for her, how he was 
watching over her, how he would signal if any dan- 
ger were approaching, how proud he was of her, 
what a perfect nest she had built, how beautiful he 

93 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


thought her eggs, what magnificent babies they 
would produce. Full of tenderness, melting with 
love, liquid with sweetness, the Cardinal sang to his 
patient little brooding mate, “So dear! So dear !” 

The farmer leaned on his corn-planter and lis- 
tened to him intently. “I swanny! If he hasn’t 
changed his song again, an’ this time I’m blest if I 
can tell what he’s saying!’ Every time the Cardi- 
nal lifted his voice, the clip of the corn-planter 
ceased, and Abram hung on the notes and studied 
them over. 

One night he said to his wife: ‘‘Maria, have you 
been noticin’ the redbird of late? He’s changed to 
a new tune, an’ this time I’m completely stalled. I 
can’t for the life of me make out what he’s saying. 
S’pose you step down to-morrow an’ see if you can 
catch it for me. Id give a pretty to know!” 

Maria felt flattered. She always had believed 
that she had a musical ear. Here was an oppor- 
tunity to test it and please Abram at the same time. 
She hastened her work the following morning, 
and very early slipped along the line fence. Hid- 

94 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


ing behind the oak, with straining ear and throb- 
bing heart, she eagerly listened. ‘Clip, clip,” came 
the sound of the planter, as Abram’s dear old figure 
trudged up the hill. “Chip! Chip!” came the 
warning of the Cardinal, as he flew to his mate. 

He gave her some food, stroked her wing, and 
flying to the dogwood, sang of the love that encom- 
passed him. As he trilled forth his tender caress- 
ing strain, the heart of the listening woman trans- 
lated as did that of the brooding bird. 

With shining eyes and flushed cheeks, she sped 
down the fence. Panting and palpitating with ex- 
citement, she met Abram half-way on his return 
trip. Forgetful of her habitual reserve, she threw 
her arms around his neck, and drawing his face to 
hers, she cried: “Oh, Abram! I got it! I got it! 
I know what he’s saying! Oh, Abram, my love! 
My own! Tome so dear! So dear!” 

“So dear! So dear!” echoed the Cardinal. 

The bewilderment in Abram’s face melted into 
comprehension. He swept Maria from her feet as 
he lifted his head. 

95 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


“On my soul! You have got it, honey! That’s 
what he’s saying, plain as gospel! I can tell it 
plainer’n anything he’s sung yet, now I sense it.” | 

He gathered Maria in his arms, pressed her head 
against his breast with a trembling old hand, while 
the face he turned to the morning was beautiful. 


** at every 


“TI wish to God,” he said quaveringly, 
creature on earth was as well fixed as me an’ the 
redbird!” Clasping each other, they listened with 
rapt faces, as, mellowing across the corn field, came 
the notes of the Cardinal,—*‘So dear! So dear!”’ 

After that Abram’s devotion to his bird family 
became a mild mania. He carried food to the top 
rail of the line fence every day, rain or shine, with 
the same regularity that he curried and fed Nancy 
in the barn. From caring for and so loving the 
Cardinal, there grew in his tender old heart a well- 
ing flood of sympathy for every bird that homed on 
his farm. 

He drove a stake to mark the spot where the kill- 
deer hen brooded in the corn field, so that he would 
not drive Nancy over the nest. When he closed the 


96 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


bars at the end of the lane, he always was careful 
to leave the third one down, for there was a chippy 
brooding in the opening where it fitted when closed. 
Alders and sweetbriers grew in his fence corners 
undisturbed that spring if he discovered that they 
sheltered an anxious-eyed little mother. He left a 
square yard of clover unmowed, because it seemed 
to him that the lark, singing nearer the Throne 
than any other bird, was picking up stray notes 
dropped by the Invisible Choir, and with unequaled 
purity and tenderness, sending them ringing down 
to his brooding mate, whose home and happiness 
would be despoiled by the reaping of that spot of 
green. He delayed burning the brush-heap from 
the spring pruning, back of the orchard, until fall, 
when he found it housed a pair of fine thrushes; 
and the song of the thrush delighted him almost as 
much as that of the lark. He left a hollow limb on 
the old red pearmain apple-tree, because when he 
came to cut it there was a pair of bluebirds twitter- 
ing around, frantic with anxiety. 

His pockets were bulgy with wheat and crumbs, 

97 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


and his heart was big with happiness. It was the 
golden springtime of his later life. The sky never 
had seemed so blue, or the earth so beautiful. The 
Cardinal had opened the fountains of his soul; life 
took on a new color and joy; while every work of 
God manifested a fresh and heretofore unappre- 
ciated loveliness. His very muscles seemed to re- 
lax, and new strength arose to meet the demands of 
his uplifted spirit. He had not finished his day’s 
work with such ease and pleasure in years; and he 
could see the influence of his rejuvenation in Maria. 
She was flitting around her house with broken 
snatches of song, even sweeter to Abram’s ears than 
the notes of the birds; and in these last days he had 
noticed that she dressed particularly for her after- 
noon’s sewing, putting on her Sunday lace collar 
and a white apron. He immediately went to town 
and bought her a finer collar than she ever had 
owned in her life. 

Then he hunted a sign painter, and came home 
bearing a number of pine boards on which gleamed 
in big, shiny black letters: 

98 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


NO HUNTING ALLOWED ON 


THIS FARM 


He seemed slightly embarrassed when he showed 
them to Maria. “I feel a little mite onfriendly, put- 
ting up signs like that ’fore my neighbors,” he ad- 
mitted, “but, the fact is, it ain’t the neighbors so 
much as it’s boys that need raising, an’ them town 
creatures who call themselves sportsmen, an’ kill a 
hummin’-bird to see if they can hit it. Time was 
when trees an’ underbrush were full o’ birds an’ 
squirrels, any amount o’ rabbits, an’ the fish fairly 
crowdin’ in the river. I used to kill all the quail 
an’ wild turkeys about here a body needed to make 
an appetizing change. It was always my plan to 
take a little an’ leave a little. But just look at it 
now. Surprise o’ my life if I get a two-pound bass. 
Wild turkey gobblin’ would scare me most out of 
my senses, an’, as for the birds, there are just about 
a fourth what there used to be, an’ the crops eaten 
to pay for it. I’d do all I’m tryin’ to for any bird, 
because of its song an’ color, an’ pretty teeterin’ 


99 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 
ways, but I ain’t so slow but I see I’m paid in what 
they do for me. Up go these signs, an’ it won’t be 
a happy day for anybody I catch trespassin’ on my 
birds.” 

Maria studied the signs meditatively. ‘You 


> she said con- 


shouldn’t be forced to put ’em up,’ 
clusively. “If it’s been decided ’at it’s good for 
em to be here, an’ laws made to protect ’em, people 
ought to act with some sense, an’ leave them alone. 
I never was so int’rested in the birds m all my life; 
an’ I'll jest do a little lookin’ out myself. If you 
hear a spang o’ the dinner bell when you’re out in 
the field, you’ll know it means there’s some one 
sneakin’ ’round with a gun.” ) 

Abram caught Maria, and planted a resounding 
smack on her cheek, where the roses of girlhood yet 
bloomed for him. Then he filled his pockets with 
crumbs and grain, and strolled to the river to set 
the Cardinal’s table. He could hear the sharp in- 
cisive “Chip ’? and the tender mellow love-notes as 
he left the barn; and all the way to the sumac they 
rang in his ears. 

100 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


The Cardinal met him at the corner of the field, 
and hopped over bushes and the fence only a few 
yards from him. When Abram had scattered his 
store on the rail, the bird came tipping and tilting, 
daintily caught up a crumb, and carried it to the 
sumac. His mate was pleased to take it; and he 
carried her one morsel after another until she re- 
fused to open her beak for more. He made a light 
supper himself; and then swinging on the grape- 
vine, he closed the day with an hour of music. He 
repeatedly turned a bright questioning eye toward 
Abram, but he never for a moment lost sight of the 
nest and the plump gray figure of his little mate. 
As she brooded over her eggs, he brooded over her ; 
and that she might realize the depth and constancy 
of his devotion, he told her repeatedly, with every 
tender inflection he could throw into his tones, that 
she was *‘So dear! So dear!’ 

The Cardinal had not known that the coming of 
the mate he so coveted would fill his life with such 
unceasing gladness, and yet, on the very day that 
happiness seemed at fullest measure, there was trou- 

101 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


ble in the sumac. He had overstayed his time, chas- 
ing a fat moth he particularly wanted for his mate, 
and she, growing thirsty past endurance, left the 
nest and went to the river. Seeing her there, he 
made all possible haste to take his turn at brooding, 
so he arrived just in time to see a pilfering red 
squirrel starting away with an egg. 

With a vicious scream the Cardinal struck him 
full force. His rush of rage cost the squirrel an 
eye; but it lost the father a birdling, for the squir- 
rel dropped the egg outside the nest. ‘The Cardi- 
nal mournfully carried away the tell-tale bits of 
shell, so that any one seeing them would not look up 
and discover his treasures. That left three eggs; 
and the brooding bird mourned over the lost one so 
pitifully that the Cardinal perched close to the nest 
the remainder of the day, and whispered over and 
over for her comfort that she was “So dear! So 


dear !”? 


CHAPTER V 


“See here! See here!’ shouted the Cardinal 


THE mandate repeatedly rang from the topmost 
twig of the thorn tree, and yet the Cardinal was not 
in earnest. He was beside himself with a new 
and delightful excitement, and he found it impossi- 
ble to refrain from giving vent to his feelings. He 
was commanding the farmer and every furred and 
feathered denizen of the river bottom to see; then 
he fought like a wild thing if any of them ventured 
close, for great things were happening in the sumac. 

In past days the Cardinal had brooded an hour 
every morning while his mate went to take her ex- 
ercise, bathe, and fluff in the sun parlor. He had 
gone to her that morning as usual, and she looked 
at him with anxious eyes and refused to move. He 
had hopped to the very edge of the nest and repeat- 
edly urged her to go. She only ruffled her feath- 

103 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


ers, and nestled the eggs she was brooding to 
turn them, but did not offer to leave. The Cardi- 
nal reached over and gently nudged her with his 
beak, to remind her that it was his time to brood; 
but she looked at him almost savagely, and gave 
him a sharp peck ; so he knew she was not to be both- 
ered. He carried her every dainty he could find and 
hovered near her, tense with anxiety, almost all the 
day. 

It was late in the afternoon before she went after 
the drink for which she was half famished. She 
scarcely had reached a willow and bent over the 
water before the Cardinal was on the edge of the 
nest. He examined it closely, but he could see no 
change. He leaned to give the eggs careful scru- 
tiny, and from somewhere there came to him the 
faintest little “Chip!” he ever had heard. Up went 
the Cardinal’s crest, and he dashed to the willow. 
There was no danger in sight; and his mate was 
greedily dipping her rosy beak in the water. He 
went back to the cradle and listened intently, and 
again that feeble cry came to him. Under the nest, 
; 104 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


around it, and all through the sumac he searched, 
until at last, completely baffled, he came back to 
the edge. ‘The sound was so much plainer there, 
that he suddenly leaned, caressing the eggs with 
his beak; then the Cardinal knew! He had been 
hearing the first faint cries of his shell-incased 
babies ! 

With a wild scream he made a flying leap through 
the air. His heart was beating to suffocation. He 
started in a race down the river. If he alighted on 
a bush he took only one swing, and springing from 
it flamed on in headlong flight. He flashed to the 
top of the tallest tulip tree, and cried cloudward to 
the lark, “‘See here! See here!” He dashed to the 
river bank and told the killdeers, and then visited the 
underbrush and informed the thrushes and wood 
robins. Father-tender, he grew so delirious with 
joy that he forgot his habitual aloofness, and fra- 
ternized with every bird beside the shining river. 
He even laid aside his customary caution, went 
hapa into the sumac, and caressed his mate so 
boisterously she frowned at him severely and gave 

105 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


his wing a savage pull to recall him to his sober 
senses. 

That night the Cardinal slept in the sumac, very 
close to his mate, and he shut only one eye at a time. 
Early in the morning, when he carried her the first 
food, he found that she was on the edge of the nest, 
dropping bits of shell outside; and creeping to 
peep, he saw the tiniest coral baby, with closed eyes, 
and little patches of soft silky down. Its beak 
was wide open, and though his heart was even fuller 
than on the previous day, the Cardinal knew what 
that meant; and instead of indulging in another 
celebration, he assumed the duties of paternity, and 
began searching for food, for now there were two 
empty crops in his family. On the following day. 
there were four. Then he really worked. How 
eagerly he searched, and how gladly he flew to the 
sumac with every rare morsel! 'The babies were 
too small for the mother to leave; and for the first 
few days the Cardinal was constantly on wing. 

If he could not find sufficiently dainty food for 
them in the trees and bushes, or among the offer- 

106 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


ings of the farmer, he descended to earth and 
searched like a wood robin. He forgot he needed a 
bath or owned a sun parlor; but everywhere he 
went, from his full heart there constantly burst the 
cry, “see here! See here!” 

His mate made never a sound. Her eyes were 
bigger and softer than ever, and in them glowed a 
steady love-light. She hovered over those three red 
mites of nestlings so tenderly! She was so absorbed 
in feeding, stroking, and coddling them she neg- 
lected herself until she became quite lean. When 
the Cardinal came every few minutes with food, 
she was a picture of love and gratitude for his 
devoted attention, and once she reached over and 
softly kissed his wing. “See here! See here!’ 
shrilled the Cardinal; and in his ecstasy he again 
forgot himself and sang in the sumac. Then he 
carried food with greater activity than ever to 
cover his lapse. 

The farmer knew that it lacked an hour of noon, 
but he was so anxious to tell Maria the news that he 
could not endure the suspense another minute. There 

107 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


was a new song from the sumac. He had heard it 
as he turned the first corner with the shovel plow. 
‘He had listened eagerly, and had caught the mean- 
ing almost at once,—‘See here! See here!’ He 
tied the old gray mare to the fence to prevent her 
eating the young corn, and went immediately. By 
leaning a rail against the thorn tree he was able to 
peer into the sumac, and take a good look at the 
nest of handsome birdlings, now well screened with 
the umbrella-like foliage. It seemed to Abram that 
he never could wait until noon. He critically ex- 
amined the harness, in the hope that he would find 
a buckle missing, and tried to discover a flaw in the 
plow that would send him to the barn for a file; but 
he could not discover the ghost of an excuse for go- 
ing. So, when he had waited until an hour of noon, 
he could endure it no longer. 

“Got news for you, Maria,” he called from the 
well, where he was making a great pretense of 
thirst. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” answered Maria, with a su- 
perior smile. “If it’s about the redbirds, he’s been 

108 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


up to the garden three times this morning yellin’, 
‘See here! fit to split; an’ I just figured that their 
little ones had hatched. Is that your news?” 

“Well, I be durned!’? gasped the astonished 
Abram. 

Mid-afternoon Abram turned Nancy and started 
the plow down a row that led straight to the sumac. 
He intended to stop there, tie to the fence, and go 
to the river bank, in the shade, for a visit with the 
Cardinal. It was very warm, and he was feeling 
the heat so much, that in his heart he knew he would 
be glad to reach the end of the row and the rest he 
had promised himself. 

The quick nervous strokes of the dinner bell, 
“Clang! Clang!” came cutting the air clearly and 
sharply. Abram stopped Nancy with a jerk. It 
was the warning Maria had promised to send him 
if she saw prowlers with a gun. He shaded his eyes 
with his hand and scanned the points of the com- 
pass through narrowed lids with concentrated vis- 
ion. He first caught a gleam of light playing 
on a gun-barrel, and then he could discern the fig- 

109 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


ure of a man clad in hunter’s outfit leisurely mak- 
ing his way down the lane. 

Abram hastily hitched Nancy to the fence. By 
making the best time he could, he reached the op- 
posite corner, and was nibbling the midrib of a 
young corn blade and placidly viewing the land- 
scape when the hunter passed. 

“Howdy!” he said in an even cordial voice. 

The hunter walked on without lifting his eyes or 
making audible reply. To Abram’s friendly old- 
fashioned heart this seemed the rankest discourtesy ; 
and there was a flash in his eye and a certain un- 
natural quality in his voice as he lifted a hand for 
parley. 

“Hold a minute, my friend,” he said. “Since 
you are on my premises, might I be privileged to 
ask if you have seen a few signs ’at I have posted 
pertainin’ to the use of a gun?” 

“YT am not blind,” replied the hunter; “and my 
education has been looked after to the extent that I 
can make out your notices. From the number and 


110 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


size of them, I think I could do it, old man, if I had 
no eyes.” 

The scarcely suppressed sneer, and the “old 
man” grated on Abram’s nerves amazingly, for a 
man of sixty years of peace. The gleam in his 
eyes grew stronger, and there was a perceptible lift 
of his shoulders as he answered: 

“IT meant ’em to be read, an’ understood! From 
the main road passin’ that cabin up there on the 
bank, straight to the river, an’ from the further- 
most line o’ this field to the same, is my premises, 
an’ on every foot of ’em the signs are in full force. 
They’re in a little fuller force in June, when half 
the bushes an’ tufts 0’ grass are housin’ a young 
bird family, ’an at any other time. They’re sort 
o’ upholdin’ the legislature’s act, providing for the 
protection o’ game an’ singin’ birds; an’ maybe it 
’ud be well for you to notice ’at I’m not so old but 
I’m able to stand up for my rights before any livin’ 
man.” 

There certainly was an added tinge of respect in 

111 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


the hunter’s tones as he asked: ‘Would you con- 
sider it trespass if a man simply crossed your land, 
following the line of the fences to reach the farm 
of a friend?” 

“Certainly not!” cried Abram, cordial in his re- 
lief. ‘To be sure, not! Glad to have you con- 
venience yourself. I only wanted to jest call to 
your notice ’at the birds are protected on this 
farm.” 

“Tf have no intention of interfering with your 
precious birds, I assure you,” replied the hunter. 
“And if you require an explanation of the gun in 
June, I confess I did hope to be able to pick off a 
squirrel for a very sick friend. But I suppose for 
even such cause it would not be allowed on your 
premises.” 

“Oh, pshaw, now!” said Abram. ‘Man alive! 
I’m not onreasonable. O’ course in case o’ sickness 
I’d be glad if you could run across a squirrel. All 
I wanted was to have a clear understandin’ about 
the birds. Good luck, an’ good day to you!” 

Abram started across the field to Nancy, but he 

112 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


repeatedly turned to watch the gleam of the gun- 
barrel, as the hunter rounded the corner and started 
down the river bank. He saw him leave the line of 
the fence and disappear in the thicket. 

“Goin’ straight for the sumac,” muttered Abram. 
“It’s likely I’m a fool for not stayin’ right beside 
him past that point. An’ yet—I made it fair an’ 
plain, an’ he passed his word ’at he wouldn’t touch 
the birds.” 

He untied Nancy, and for the second time started 
toward the sumac. He had been plowing care- 
fully, his attention divided between the mare and 
the corn; but he uprooted half that row, for his 
eyes wandered to the Cardinal’s home as if he were 
fascinated, and his hands were shaking with undue 
excitement as he gripped the plow handles. At last 
he stopped Nancy, and stood gazing eagerly to- 
ward the river. 

“Must be just about to the sumac,” he whispered. 
“Lord! but I'll be glad to see the old gun-barrel 
gleamin’ safe t’other side o’ it.” 

There was a thin puff of smoke, and a screaming 

113 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


echo went rolling and reverberating down the 
Wabash. Abram’s eyes widened, and a curious 
whiteness settled on his lips. He stood as if incap- 
able of moving. “Clang! Clang!? came Maria’s 
second warning. 

The trembling slid from him, and his muscles 
hardened. There was no trace of rheumatic stiff- 
ness in his movements. With a bound he struck the 
chain-traces from the singletre2 at Nancy’s heels. 
He caught the hames, leaped on her back, and dig- 
ging his heels into her sides, he stretched along her 
neck like an Indian and raced across the corn field. 
Nancy’s twenty years slipped from her as her mas- 
ter’s sixty had from him. Without understanding 
the emergency, she knew that he required all the 
speed there was in her; and with trace-chains rat- 
tling and beating on her heels, she stretched out un- 
til she fairly swept the young corn, as she raced for 
the sumac. Once Abram straightened, and slip- 
ping a hand into his pocket, drew out a formidable 
jack-knife, opening it as he rode. When he reached 
the fence, he almost flew over Nancy’s head. He 

114 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


went into a fence corner, and with a few slashes, 
severed a stout hickory withe, stripping the leaves 
and topping it as he leaped the fence. 

He grasped this ugly weapon, his eyes dark with 
anger, as he appeared before the hunter, who sup- 
posed him at the other side of the field. 

“Did you shoot at that redbird?” he roared. 

As his gun was at the sportman’s shoulder, and 
he was still peering among the bushes, denial seemed 
useless. “Yes, I did,” he replied, and made a pre- 
tense of turning to the sumac again. 

There was a forward impulse of Abram’s body. 
“Hit *im?” he demanded with awful calm. 

“Thought I had, but I guess I only winged him.” 

Abram’s fingers closed around his club. At the 
sound of his friend’s voice, the Cardinal came dart- 
ing through the bushes a wavering flame, and swept 
so closely to him for protection that a wing almost 
brushed his cheek. 

“See here! See here!” shrilled the bird in deadly 
panic. ‘There was not a cut feather to be seen on 
him. 

115 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


Abram’s relief was so great he seemed to shrink 
an inch in height. 

“Young man, you better thank your God you 
missed that bird,” he said solemnly, “for if you’d 
killed him, I’d a mauled this stick to ribbons on you, 
an’ I’m most afraid I wouldn’t a-knowed when to 
quit.” 

He advanced a step in his eagerness, and the 
hunter, mistaking his motive, leveled his gun. 

“Drop that! shouted Abram, as he broke 
through the bushes that clung to him, tore the 
clothing from his shoulders, and held him back. 
“Drop that! Don’t you dare point a weapon at 
me; on my own premises, an’ after you passed your 
word. 

‘Your word!” repeated Abram, with withering 
scorn, his white, quivering old face terrible to see. 


“Young man, I got a couple o’ things to say to 


you. You’r’ shaped like a man, an’ you’r’ dressed — 


like a man, an’ yet the smartest person livin’ would ; 


never take you for anything but an ege-suckin’ 
dog, this minute. All the time God ever spent on 
116 


& 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


you was wasted, an’ your mother’s had the same 
luck. I s’pose God’s used to having creatures ’at 
He’s made, go wrong, but I pity your mother. 
Goodness knows a woman suffers an’ works enough 
over her children, an’ then to fetch a boy to man’s 
estate an’ have him, of his own free will an’ accord, 
be a liar! Young man, truth is the corner-stone 0’ 
the temple o’ character. Nobody can put up a good 
buildin’? without a solid foundation; an’ you can’t 
do solid character buildin’ with a lie at the base. 
Man ’at’s a liar ain’t fit for anything! Can’t trust 
him in no sphere or relation o’ life; or in any way, 
shape or manner. You passed out your word like 
a man, an’ like a man I took it an’ went off trustin’ 
you, an’ you failed me. Like as not that squirrel 
story was a lie, too! Have you got a sick friend 
who is needin’ squirrel broth?” 

The hunter shook his head. 

“No? That wasn’t true either? Ill own you 
make me curious. ’Ud you mind tellin’ me what 
was your idy in cookin’ up that squirrel story?” 

The hunter spoke with an effort. “I suppose I 

BEY 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


wanted to do something to make you feel small,” he 
admitted, in a husky voice. 

“You wanted to make me feel small,” repeated 
Abram, wonderingly. “Lord! Lord! Young 
man, did you ever hear o’ a boomerang? It’s a kind 
o’ weapon used in Borneo, er Australy, er some 0” 
them furrin parts, an’ it’s so made ’at the heathens 
can pitch it, an’ it cuts a circle an’ comes back to 
the fellow ’at throwed. I can’t see myself, an’ I 
don’t know how small I’m lookin’; but I’d rather 
lose ten year o’ my life ’an to have anybody catch 
me lookin’ as little as you do right now. I guess we 
look about the way we feel in this world. I’m feelin’ 
near the size o’ Goliath at present; but your size 
is such ’at it hustles me to see any man in you at 
all. An’ you wanted to make me feel small! My, 
oh, my! An’ you so young yet, too! 

‘*An’ if it hadn’t a-compassed a matter o’ break- 
in’? your word, what ’ud you want to kill the 
redbird for, anyhow? Who give you rights to go 
round takin’ such beauty an’ joy out of the world? 
Who do you think made this world, an’ the things 

118 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


*at’s in it? Maybe it’s your notion ’at somebody 
about your size whittled it from a block o’ wood, 
scattered a little sand for earth, stuck a few seeds 
for trees, an’ started the oceans with a waterin’-pot! 
I don’t know what paved streets an’ stall feedin’ do 
for a man, but any one ’at’s lived sixty year on the 
ground knows ’at this whole old earth is just 
teemin’ with work ’at’s too big for anything but a 
God, an’ a mighty big God at that! 

““You don’t never need bother none *bout the dis- 
kivries o’ science, for if science could prove ’at the 
earth was a red hot slag broken from the sun, ’at 
balled an’ cooled flyin’? through space until the 
force o’ gravity caught an’ held it, it don’t prove 
what the sun broke from, or why it balled an’ didn’t 
cool, Sky over your head, earth under foot, trees 
around you, an’ river there,—all full o’ life ’at you 
ain’t no mortal right to touch, ’cos God made it, 
an’ it’s His! Course, I know ’at He said distinct 
’at man was to have ‘dominion over the beasts 0’ the 
field, an’? the fowls o’ the air.’ An’ that means ’at 
you’re free to smash a copper-head instead of let- 

119 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 
ting it sting you. Means ’at you better shoot a 
wolf than to let it carry off your lambs. Means ’at 
it’s right to kill a hawk an’ save your chickens ; but 
God knows ’at shootin’ a redbird just to see the 
feathers fly isn’t having dominion over anything; 
it?s just makin’ a plumb beast o’ yerself. Passes 
me, how you can face up to the Almighty, an’ 
draw a bead on a thing like that! Takes more 
gall’n I got! 

‘God never made anything prettier ’an that bird, 
an’ He must a-been mighty proud o’ the job. Just 
cast your eye on it there! Ever see anything so 
runnin’ over with dainty, pretty, coaxin’ ways? 
Little red creatures, full o’ hist’ry too! Ever think 
o that? Last year’s bird, hatched hereabout, like 
as not. Went South for winter, an’ made friends 
*at’s been feedin’, an’ teachin’ it to trust mankind. 
Back this spring in a night, an’ struck that sumac 
over a month ago. Broke me all up first time I 
ever set eyes on it. 

“Biggest reddest redbird I ever saw; an’ just a 
master hand at king’s English! 'Talk plain as you 

120 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


can! Don’t know what he said down South, but you 
can bank on it, it was sumpin’ pretty fine. When he 
settled here, he was discoursin’ on the weather, an’ 
he talked it out about proper. He’d say, ‘Wet year! 
Wet year! jest like that! He got the ‘wet’ jest 
as good as I can, an’, if he drawed the ‘ye-ar’ out a 
little, still any blockhead could a-told what he was 
sayin’, an’ in a voice pretty an’ clear as a bell. 
Then he got love-sick, an’ begged for comp’ny un- 
til he broke me all up. An’ if I’d a-been a hen red- 
bird I wouldn’t a-been so long comin’. Had me 
pulverized in less’n no time! Then a little hen 
comes ’long, an’ stops with him; an’ ’twas like an 
organ playin’ prayers to hear him tell her how he 
loved her. Now they’ve got a nest full o’ the cun- 
ningest little topknot babies, an’ he’s splittin’ the 
echoes, calling for the whole neighborhood to come 
see ’em, he’s so mortal proud. 

“Stake my life he’s never been fired on afore! 
He’s pretty near wild with narvousness, but he’s 


got too much spunk to leave his fam’ly, an’ go off 


an’ hide from creatures like you. They’s no caution 


121 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


in him. Look at him tearin’ ’round to give you an- 
other chance! 

“TI felt most too rheumaticky to tackle field work 
this spring until he come ’long, an’ the fire o’ his 
coat an’ song got me warmed up as I ain’t been in 
years. Work’s gone like it was greased, an’ my 
soul’s been singin’ for joy o’ life an’ happiness 
ev'ry minute o’ the time since he come. Been car- 
ryin’ him grub to that top rail once an’ twice a day 
for the last month, an’ I can go in three feet o’ him. 
My wife comes to see him, an’ brings him stuff ; an’ 
we about worship him. Who are you, to come ’long 
an’ wipe out his joy in life, an’ our joy in him, for 
just nothin’? You'd a left him to rot on the ground, 
if you’d a hit him; an’ me an’ Maria’s loved him 
so! 

“D’you ever stop to think how full this world is 
o’ things to love, if your heart’s just big enough to 
let °em in? We love to live for the beauty o’ the 
things surroundin’ us, an’ the joy we take in bein’ 
among ’em. An’ it’s my belief ’at the way to make 
folks love us, is for us to be able to ’preciate what 

122 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


they can do. If a man’s puttin’ his heart an’ soul, 
an’ blood, an’ beef-steak, an’ bones into paintin’ 
picters, you can talk farmin’ to him all day, an’ 
he’s dumb; but just show him ’at you see what he’s 
a-drivin’ at in his work, an’ he’ll love you like a 
brother. Whatever anybody succeeds in, it’s suc- 
cess ’cos they so love it’ at they put the best o’ their- 
selves into it; an’ so, lovin’ what they do, is lovin’ 
them. 

“Tt *ud *bout kill a painter-man to put the best o” 
himself into his picture, an’ then have some fellow 
like you come ’long an’ pour turpentine on it just 
to see the paint run; an’ I think it must pretty well 
use God up, to figure out how to make an’ color a 
thing like that bird, an’ then have you walk up 
an’ shoot the little red heart out of it, just to prove 
’at you can! He’s the very life o’ this river bank. 
I’d as soon see you dig up the underbrush, an’ dry 
up the river, an’ spoil the picture they make against 
the sky, as to hev’ you drop the redbird. He’s the 
red life o’ the whole thing! God must a-made him 
when his heart was pulsin’ hot with love an’ the lust 

123 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


o’ creatin’ incom-par-able things; an’ He jest saw 
how pretty it ’ud be to dip his featherin’ into the 
blood He was puttin’ in his veins. 

“To my mind, ain’t no better way to love an’ 
worship God, ’an to protect an’ ’preciate these fine 
gifts He’s given for our joy an’ use. Worshipin’ 
that bird’s a kind o’ religion with me. Getting the 
beauty from the sky, an’ the trees, an’ the grass, 
an’ the water ’at God made, is nothin’ but doin’ Him 
homage. Whole earth’s a sanctuary. You can 
worship from sky above to grass under foot. 

“Course, each man has his particular altar. 
Mine’s in that cabin up at the bend o’ the river. 
Maria lives there. God never did cleaner work, ’an 
when He made Maria. Lovin’ her’s sacrament. 
She’s so clean, an’ pure, an’ honest, an’ big-hearted! 
In forty year I’ve never jest durst brace right up 
to Maria an’ try to put in words what she means to 
me. Never saw nothin’ else as beautiful, or as good. 
No flower’s as fragrant an’ smelly as her hair on 
her pillow. Never tapped a bee tree with honey 

124 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


sweet as her lips a-twitchin’ with a love quiver. 
Ain’t a bird ’long the ol? Wabash with a voice up 
to hers. Love o’ God ain’t broader’n her kindness. 
When she’s been home to see her folks, I’ve been so 
hungry for her ’at I’ve gone to her closet an’ kissed 
the hem o’ her skirts more’n once. I’ve never yet 
dared kiss her feet, but I’ve always wanted to. [ve 
laid out ’at if she dies first, Pll do it then. An’ 
Maria ’ud cry her eyes out if you’d a-hit the red- 
bird. Your trappin’s look like you could shoot. I 
guess *twas God made that shot fly the mark. I 
guess—” 

“Tf you can stop, for the love of mercy do it!” 
cried the hunter. His face was a sickly white, his 
temples wet with sweat, and his body trembling. “I 
can’t endure any more. I don’t suppose you think 
I’ve any human instincts at all; but I have a few, 
and I see the way to arouse more. You probably 
won’t believe me, but I’ll never kill another inno- 
cent harmless thing; and I will never lie again as 
long as I live.” 

125 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


He leaned his gun against the thorn tree, and 
dropped the remainder of his hunter’s outfit beside 
it on the ground. 

“J don’t seem a fit subject to ‘have dominion’,” 
he said. “Ill leave those things for you; and thank 
you for what you have done for me.” 

There was a crash through the bushes, a leap 
over the fence, and Abram and the Cardinal were 
alone. 

The old man sat down suddenly on a fallen limb 
of the sycamore. He was almost dazed with aston- 
ishment. He held up his shaking hands, and 
watched them wonderingly, and then cupped one 
over each trembling knee to steady himself. He 
outlined his dry lips with the tip of his tongue, and 
breathed in heavy gusts. He glanced toward the 
thorn tree. 

“Left his gun,” he hoarsely whispered, “an it’s 
fine as a fiddle. Lock, stock, an’ barrel just a- 
shinin’, An’ all that heap o’ leather fixin’s. Must 
a-cost a lot o’ money. Said he wasn’t fit to use ’em! 
Lept the fence like a panther, an’ cut dirt across 

126 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


the corn field. An’ left me the gun! Well! Well! 
Well! Wonder what I said? I must a-been almost 
fierce.” | 

“See here! See here!” shrilled the Cardinal. 

Abram looked him over carefully. He was quiv- 
ering with fear, but in no way injured. 

“My! but that was a close call, ol’ fellow,” said 
‘Abram. “Minute later, an’ our fun ’ud a-been 
over, an’ the summer jest spoiled. Wonder if you 
knew what it meant, an’ if you’ll be gun-shy after 
this. Land knows, I hope so; for a few more such 
doses *ull jest lay me up.” 

He gathered himself together at last, set the gun 
over the fence, and climbing after it, caught Nancy, 
who had feasted to plethora on young corn. He 
fastened up the trace-chains, and climbing to her 
back, laid the gun across his lap and rode to the 
barn. He attended the mare with particular solici- 
tude, and bathed his face and hands in the water 
trough to make himself a little more presentable to 
Maria. He started to the house, but had only gone 
a short way when he stopped, and after standing in 

127 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


thought for a time, turned back to the barn and 
gave Nancy another ear of corn. 

“After all, it was all you, ol girl,” he said, pat- 
ting her shoulder, ‘I never on earth could a-made 
it on time afoot.” 

He was so tired he leaned for support against 
her, for the unusual exertion and intense excite- 
ment were telling on him sorely, and as he rested he 
confided to her: ‘I don’t know as I ever in my life 
was so riled, Nancy. I’m afraid I was a little mite 
fierce.” 

He exhibited the gun, and told the story very 
soberly at supper time; and Maria was so filled with 
solicitude for him and the bird, and so indignant at 
the act of the hunter, that she never said a word 
about Abram’s torn clothing and the hours of 
patching that would ensue. She sat looking at the 
gun and thinking intently for a long time; and then 
she said pityingly: 

“T don’t know jest what you could a-said ’at ’ud 
make a man go off an’ leave a gun like that. Poor 
fellow! I do hope, Abram, you didn’t come down 

128 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


on him too awful strong. Maybe he lost his mother 
when he was jest a little tyke, an’ he hasn’t had 
much teachin’.” 

Abram was completely worn out, and went early 
to bed. Far in the night Maria felt him fumbling 
around her face in an effort to learn if she were cov- 
ered; and as he drew the sheet over her shoulder he 
muttered in worn and sleepy tones: “I’m afraid 
they’s no use denyin’ it, Maria, I was jest mortal 
fierce.” 

In the sumac the frightened little mother cardi- 
nal was pressing her precious babies close against 
her breast ; and all through the night she kept call- 
ing to her mate, “Chook ! Chook !” and was satisfied 
only when an answering “Chip!’ came. As for the 
Cardinal, he had learned a new lesson. He had not 
been under fire before. Never again would he trust 
any one carrying a shining thing that belched fire 
and smoke. He had seen the hunter coming, and 
had raced home to defend his mate and babies, thus 
making a brilliant mark of himself; and as he would 
not have deserted them, only the arrival of the 

129 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


farmer had averted a tragedy in the sumac. He 
did not learn to use caution for himself; but after 
that, if a gun came down the shining river, he sent 
a warning “Chip!” to his mate, telling her to crouch 
low in her nest and keep very quiet, and then, in 
broken waves of flight, and with chirp and flutter, 
he exposed himself until he had lured danger from 
his beloved ones. 

When the babies grew large enough for their 
mother to leave them a short time, she assisted in 
food hunting, and the Cardinal was not so busy. 
He then could find time frequently to mount to the 
top of the dogwood, and cry to the world, “See 
here! See here!’ for the cardinal babies were splen- 
did. But his music was broken intermittent vocal- 
izing now, often uttered past a beakful of food, and 
interspersed with spasmodic “chips” if danger 
threatened his mate and nestlings. 

Despite all their care, it was not so very long un- 
til trouble came to the sumac; and it was all because 
the first-born was plainly greedy; much more so 
than either his little brother or his sister, and he was 

130 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


one day ahead of them in strength. He always 
pushed himself forward, cried the loudest and long- 
est, and so took the greater part of the food car- 
ried to the nest; and one day, while he was still 
quite awkward and uncertain, he climbed to the 
edge and reached so far that he fell. He rolled 
down the river bank, splash! into the water; and a 
hungry old pickerel, sunning in the weeds, finished 
him at a snap. He made a morsel so fat, sweet, 
and juicy that the pickerel lingered close for a 
week, waiting to see if there would be any more 
accidents. 

The Cardinal, hunting grubs in the corn field, 
heard the frightened cries of his mate, and dashed 
to the sumac in time to see the poor little ball of 
brightly tinted feathers disappear in the water and 
to hear the splash of the fish. He called in helpless 
panic and fluttered over the spot. He watched and 
waited until there was no hope of the nestling com- 
ing up, then he went to the sumac to try to com- 
fort his mate. She could not be convinced that her 
young one was gone, and for the remainder of the 

181 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


day filled the air with alarm cries and notes of 
wailing. 

The two that remained were surely the envy of 
Birdland. The male baby was a perfect copy of 
his big crimson father, only his little coat was gray ; 
but it was so highly tinged with red that it was bril- 
liant, and his beak and feet were really red; and 
how his crest did flare, and how proud and impor- 
tant he felt, when he found he could raise and lower 
it at will, His sister was not nearly so bright as 
he, and she was almost as greedy as the lost brother. 
With his father’s chivalry he allowed her to crowd 
in and take the most of the seeds and berries, so that 
she continually appeared as if she could swallow 
no more, yet she was constantly calling for food. 

She took the first flight, being so greedy she for- 
got to be afraid, and actually flew to a neighboring 
thorn tree to meet the Cardinal, coming with food, 
before she realized what she had done. For once 
gluttony had its proper reward. She not only 
missed the bite, but she got her little self mightily 

132 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


well scared. With popping eyes and fear-flattened 
crest, she clung to the thorn limb, shivering at the 
depths below ; and it was the greatest comfort when 
her brother plucked up courage and came sailing 
across to her. But, of course, she could not be ex- 
pected to admit that. When she saw how easily he 
did it, she flared her crest, turned her head indiffer- 
ently, and inquired if he did not find flying a very 
easy matter, once he mustered courage to try it; 
and she made him very much ashamed indeed be- 
cause he had allowed her to be the first to leave the 
nest. From the thorn tree they worked their way 
to the dead sycamore; but there the lack of foliage 
made them so conspicuous that their mother almost 
went into spasms from fright, and she literally 
drove them back to the sumac. 

The Cardinal was so inordinately proud, and 
made such a brave showing of teaching them to fly, 
bathe, and all the other things necessary for young 
birds to know, that it was a great mercy they es- 
caped with their lives. He had mastered many les- 

133 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


sons, but he never could be taught how to be quiet 
and conceal himself. With explosive “chips” flam- 
ing and flashing, he met dangers that sent all the 
other birds beside the shining river racing to cover. 
Concealment he scorned; and repose he never knew. 

It was a summer full of rich experience for the 
Cardinal. After these first babies were raised and 
had flown, two more nests were built, and two other 
broods flew around the sumac. By fall the Cardi- 
nal was the father of a small flock, and they were 
each one neat, trim, beautiful river birds. 

He had lived through spring with its perfumed 
air, pale flowers, and burning heart hunger. He 
had known summer in its golden mood, with forests 
pungent with spicebush and sassafras; festooned 
with wild grape, woodbine, and bittersweet; car- 
peted with velvet moss and starry mandrake peep- 
ing from beneath green shades; the never-ending 
murmur of the shining river; and the rich fulfil- 
ment of love’s fruition. 

Now it was fall, and all the promises of spring 

134 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


were accomplished. The woods were glorious in 
autumnal tints. There were ripened red haws, 
black haws, and wild grapes, only waiting for 
severe frosts, nuts rattling down, scurrying squir- 
rels, and the rabbits’ flash of gray and brown. The 
waysides were bright with the glory of goldenrod, 
and royal with the purple of asters and ironwort. 
There was the rustle of falling leaves, the flitting 
of velvety butterflies, the whir of wings trained 
southward, and the call of the king crow gathering 
his followers. 

Then to the Cardinal came the intuition that it 
was time to lead his family to the orange orchard. 
One day they flamed and rioted up and down the 
shining river, raced over the corn field, and tilted on 
the sumac. The next, a black frost had stripped 
its antlered limbs. Stark and deserted it stood, a 
picture of loneliness. 

O, bird of wonderful plumage and human-like 
song! What a precious thought of Divinity to 
create such beauty and music for our pleasure! 

135, 


THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL 


Brave songster of the flaming coat, too proud to 
hide your flashing beauty, too fearless to be cau- 
tious of the many dangers that beset you, from the 
top of the morning we greet you, and hail you King 
of Birdland, at your imperious command, “See 


here! See here!” 


THE END 


ae! 
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4 va bya 
: wu ‘ 


iS \a F it ’ 
‘;. ¢ * ry ra 
i as Sh i 
oy 5 +o) 
ee ge ar 


-URBANA 


UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 


